


lux

by paladumb



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Angst, F/F, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Flashbacks, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Sniper Lance (Voltron), TW: Blood, TW: Flashbacks, TW: Violence, but like, it's a she/they thing, it's like a sequel without the original, no one in this fic is straight, post-military, so there will be gratuitous, spy AU, tw: weaponry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 17:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13346025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paladumb/pseuds/paladumb
Summary: The year is 2044. 11 years after the tiny country of Galratia announced their discovery of the near-indestructible metal luxite, the world is under their thumb. The Voltron Alliance, named after the elite Marine squadron of nine that fought in the six-year Galra War, is broken. Barely a whisper of its former influence remains. The Galra Empire seems limitless in its oversight and power.Yet not all hope is lost. For inside the very heart of the Empire lies one agent who could bring the entire regime to its knees. Two years ago, decorated war veteran and ex-member of Voltron Squadron Sergeant Keith Kogane publicly renounced the Voltron Alliance and declared his loyalty to the homeland of his mother. Known to the world now only as Agent K, one of thirteen deadly agents employed by the Galra Empire to spread fear among the world, his loyalty is absolute, and Emperor Zarkon and his generals trust him without question.But then Agent K discovers a secret - one so powerful it could topple the Empire. Emperor Zarkon knows, however, that his loyalty will prevent him from betraying the country of his heritage. Unfortunately for the Empire, Agent K has only one loyalty that’s greater than that of queen and country.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> good morning all! welcome to what promises to be a completed, multichapter fic from me!!! yes, really! 
> 
> this is based on a fic i wrote for klanceweek2017, "we're pushing at the sun." the scene portrayed in that fic will appear later on in this one, but it will differ wildly; if you don't want spoilers, don't read it!
> 
> This is a war/military/spy au, so please, CHECK THE TRIGGER WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ! i will put trigger warnings before each chapter - if you need something tagged, please tell me in the comments.  
> MILD SPOILERS FOR THE TW: in this chapter: FLASHBACKS, specifically war flashbacks, right at the beginning, VIOLENCE, at the beginning, DEATH, again, at the beginning, and BODY HORROR, at the beginning. If you want to avoid this, start reading where the italics stop.
> 
> shout out to my beta readers, [JelloCello](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JelloCello/pseuds/JelloCello) and [AmbitiousSkychild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbitiousSkychild/pseuds/AmbitiousSkychild)! i'm so grateful to both of you!!
> 
> please enjoy and let me know what you think down in the comments section! the next update will be January 25.

_Keith ducks as an explosion goes off behind him -- whites out his ears for a second -- comes back to Matt screaming something in his comm, hands dragging him up,_

_“Move, move, move---” Shiro - and Keith rolls over, the sun blinding him for a second, and he struggles to his feet, grabbing his gun from beside him, and runs after Shiro, jumping over rubble and glass. “Where’s Nebula 3 - ”_

_“_ **_\----WON’T LEAVE!_ ** _” Matt shouts. “_ **_Plaxum is TRAPPED -------- want me to -_ ** _”_

 _“_ **_There ---- Galra soldiers everywhere, Galaxy 2, you evacuate immed----_ ** _” snaps furiously over comms, who’s it, Lt. Smythe -  “_ **_That’s an ORDER --_ ** _”_

 _“_ **_GET ----OWN FROM THE TOWER!_ ** _” Plaxum screams. “_ **_GREN--- IN TEN!_ ** _”_

 _“_ **_FUCK-- Pidge, move, NOW--_ ** _”_

 _“_ **_MATT don’t you DARE!!!_ ** _” Pidge. “_ **_You can’t make ------_ ** _”_

 _“_ **_Fuckin-- ------CH me-_ ** _”_

 _“_ **_Galaxy 2. Stand down. ------ Matt, I’m ordering you to ------------!_ ** _” Allura yells, her voice cracking._

_“Nebula 3! Location, immediately!”_

_“_ **_\----till with Supernova 1, coming down the castle tower -_ ** _”_

_Keith, callsign Nebula 2, looks towards the tower, across the ruined cobblestone and storefront, --- Shiro tackles him to the ground, “GET DOWN - ”_

_And another explosion, Pidge’s horrified screaming of “_ **_MATT! MATT!_ ** _” over comms, the sky turning gold with fire, the tower bursting into tiny pieces, Shay’s “_ **_Plaxum,_ ** _” and Keith’s, callsign Nebula 2, ears ringing with another explosion. His skin is numb, but everything burns._

 _The smoke clears and, silence, except for Lance’s clear voice over the comms. “_ **_This is Supernova 1. Squad, check in._ ** _”_

 _“_ **_Supernova 2, check---- in,_ ** _” Hunk’s choked-up voice says._

 _“_ **_Supernova 3, checking -n,_ ** _” Shay croaks._

_“Nebula 1, checking in,” Shiro says, and Keith echoes, callsign Nebula 2, callsign Nebula 2._

_“_ **_Nebula 3 check. --------. Matt._ ** _” Pidge’s voice is furious._

 _“_ **_Gala-y 1, checking in,_ ** _” Allura says, her voice thick._

_Silence. Neither Matt’s or Plaxum’s voice sounds over the comms._

_Keith, callsignNebula2, crouches, and over the low wall of a church that once was standing, something dark shifts and KeithcallsignNebula2, leaps over the wall;_

_“_ **_Nebula 2, --------o you see?_ ** _” Shiro snaps over comms._

_“I’ll tell you when I’m there,” callsignKeithNebula2 says, and running - please, please, be alive -_

_He stumbles over the burnt face of Matt Holt, choking, bleeding, one of his arms torn off. “Matt,” he says, reaching a hand out._

_“Is - ” Matt coughs. Pidge screams his name. “Plaxum.”_

_callsignNebula2 shakes his head. “I don’t - I don’t - ”_

_Pidge falls to her knees next to him. “Matt,” she says, “Matt,” she says, “Matt,” she -_

_Matt tries to lift his head up but it thumps back down on the ground, his eyes staring upwards at the blue, blue sky. “Katie,” he coughs, and callsignNebula2 watches in horrified shock as he stills._

_“Matt,” he says._

_But Matt’s eyes are blank, and the sky in them is just a reflection. callsignNebula2 reaches over and -_

opened his eyes.

He stared blankly up at his plain ceiling, registering the darkness outside his window, tracking the blinking of his alarm as it cycled through the minutes remaining until it rang. He watched Matt’s eyes gloss over, stare at nothing, again and again and again. Killing people you didn’t know was one thing. He didn’t see them in his dreams anymore.

His alarm went off, its shrill beeping inserting itself into K’s ears. He smoothly sat up, the covers falling off his legs, and turned it off, standing.

His room was bare, as was the rest of his small, GIO-issued apartment. A bed, a desk, a computer, a bathroom. It was more personalized than others, though; K had actually bought himself a rug, and then when he got rug burn from his morning calisthenics, a mat. As one of the Galra Intelligence Operations’ number one agents, he had to keep his body in top shape.

He ran through his sit-ups and lunges with minimal effort, but was still working on doing his push-ups without excessive thought. Push-ups always reminded him of -

_“--n’t believe you can’t do 15 whole pushups with me sitting on your back!--”_

K did 40 and stood up to take a shower.

Once he was done, he tied a towel around his waist and headed into his kitchen to fix himself a bowl of oatmeal. As he stirred, he pulled up his daily agenda.

“ Good morning, Agent K. You have 3 items on your agenda today, July 22nd, 2044. ”

He let the computer speak as he indulged himself and began to cut up a banana to put in the oatmeal.

“Finish filing report on Amboise Mission for GIO General Ezor.”

K almost smiled. General Ezor was the head of the GIO and K had saved her wife, Acxa, from dying when they’d gone on a mission together once. Ezor was bubbly and full of energy in a way that was hauntingly familiar to K, and yet because of it, she was also simultaneously absolutely terrifying.

“ Meet with General Ezor about upcoming missions. ”

K hoped it wasn’t one on one.

“ Give talk to new recruits. ”

Oh, God. He’d almost forgotten.

Several lower-level GIO agents had gone on a mission to raid the American embassy in Budapest, where they believed a Voltron Alliance outpost was stationed. They may have been right, but the mystery of the young agents’ disappearance off the face of the planet was never solved. After the loss, however, they’d needed new agents to fill the place of the ones that had disappeared, and now they were sending K to scare the new agents and show them “what they could become.”

“ Agent, there is additional information from General Zethrid on the third item on your agenda. Shall I relay it? ”

“I guess so,” K said, blowing cool air over his oatmeal.

“ She wants you to talk about your reasons for betraying the Voltron Alliance and giving up on your paladin status. She asks for you to “lay it on thick,” when it comes to talking about the horrors that the Voltron Alliance has performed on the Galra Empire. The new generation of Galra are questioning the reasons we went to war. She wants you to remind them of Galra superiority. ”

“Don’t see why she needs me to scare them. She’s scary enough as it is,” K mumbled.

“ Shall I relay this as a response to her? ” the computer asked.

“Absolutely not,” K said. “Just open up a notes tab. I need to prepare a speech.”

~

K stood at the front of a meeting room at the Empire capitol building, facing about 8 new junior-level agents who were listening to him with a healthy mixture of respect and fear. Zethrid loomed at the back of the room, working on her phone.

“Do you have a license to kill?” asked a boy with a buzz cut and signature purple Galra eyes.

“Yes,” K said.

“How many people have you killed?” he asked.

“More than I can count,” K said stoically. “Next.”

“What kind of weapons do you carry?”

K pulled out his knife. “My favorite is my luxite knife.” He turned so they could see his holster, “Handgun.” Pulled a switchblade out of his boot. “Steel switchblade.” A steel knife out of his utility belt. “Second-favorite knife.” He thought about it for a second. “There’s also a - ”

“Stop showing off,” Zethrid grumbled from the back of the room.

K saluted her. “Next question.”

“How long have you been working for the Empire?” asked another girl.

“Two years in mid-August.”

“And you’re already one of their best agents?” someone blurted out, and K raised an eyebrow.

“I entered with the skill set of - ”

“Do you ever miss it?”

The room quieted to turn to a boy with dark skin, Galra eyes, and a scar above his right ear. “Voltron, I mean. Being a Paladin. Do you ever miss it?”

It was a dangerous question, and K knew it, and Zethrid knew it from the way she had closed her phone, looking over at K. He knew she didn’t trust him, and he needed to give the right answer to seal that trust. And he needed to give an answer in time.

“There were certain privileges I had as a Paladin,” he said slowly. “Lavish living arrangements, fancy cooking, meeting important people. But deep down, I always knew that I didn’t belong to them. That I was an outsider, that I was different.” He straightened and blanked his mind. “I am Galra. I have always been Galra. When I joined the Empire, it finally felt like I had done the right thing. Everything fell into place.” He looked at the boy. “I miss the frivolous things, but they all pale in comparison to doing what’s right.”

The new recruits were staring at him with wide eyes and big, round, young, faces, and K kept his stoic mask up, because it was the only thing he could hold on to.

“Thank you, Agent K. Recruits, you are dismissed,” Zethrid barked, and the kids jumped and scurried away, but K strode forward and put a hand on the last boy’s shoulder. He turned around and his jaw dropped when he saw K standing there.

“Sir!” the boy said.

“What’s your name?” K asked.

“My name?” the boy echoed. “It’s Klaizap Arus, sir.”

“And you’re Galra?”

“Half-Galra, sir,” Klaizap Arus said proudly. “Just like yourself, sir. That article in the paper circled a year ago, about your - your heritage, and I thought, hey, if he can do it and he’s only half Galra, why can’t I?”

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” K said, feeling the words fall from his mouth like he was knocking out teeth. He wanted to - he wanted to - “You’re going places.”

“Thank you, sir!” Klaizap Arus beamed. “I’ll be going now, sir.”

K gave him a nod and Klaizup gave him an off-kilter but enthusiastic salute, and charged down the hallway after the other new recruits.

“I didn’t know you had a way with kids, Agent,” Zethrid said smoothly, coming to stand behind K. “That was… nice, what you did for him.” It was not sincere.

“He asked a good question.”

“He asked a naive question,” Zethrid said, her face getting darker. “He hopes for too much. Optimism has no place here.”

K grabbed his jacket from the coat hanger by the door. “Thank you for inviting me to do this,” he said.

Zethrid smiled. “I’ll make sure to invite you back.”

~

K knocked on Ezor’s door, and from inside her saccharine voice called, “Just a minute!” K stood back to wait, and when he heard a muffled gasp and giggling, he knew exactly what was going on in there, and stood aside, pulling his phone out of his pocket to keep himself occupied.

Another agent slowed as she passed the door, looking at K, and then the door, and then back to K.

“Is something the problem, H?” K asked her.

“No!” she said, and grinned, echoing K’s thoughts: “I just - I know what’s going on in there.” She laughed low. “We’ve all been stuck waiting before, right?”

K glanced at the door, but before he could respond, he felt something brush past his feet, and he looked down to see -

“Oh shit,” Agent H said, “I’m outta here. Narti scares the fuck out of me.” She bolted down the corridor as K turned to see General Narti round the other corner in search of her cat. He snapped into a salute. It was common courtesy. She might not be able to see or speak, but she _knew_ if you didn’t salute her when she came by.

“General.”

She nodded in his direction, and then knocked at Ezor’s office door. Ezor’s annoyed voice came from inside. “I said, _just a minute_!”

K watched apprehensively as Narti stood there for a moment, cocked her head, and then straightened. She took a few steps back and K took a few steps away, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

Narti strode forward on heavy boots and kicked the door in, walking right over the wreckage. Ezor’s screaming came from inside the office, and K almost smiled.

A minute later, Acxa was emerging from the office, her heels clicking, adjusting her jacket and wiping away the last of her smeared lipstick. K saluted her. “General.”

“Agent,” Acxa said crisply, marching away.

K’s heart hurt.

“Now you may enter,” Ezor said from inside the office.

K entered. Narti was standing to the side, looking thoroughly un-amused, but Ezor was lounging behind her desk, a shit-eating grin spread across her face. “How can I help you, Agent?”

“I have my most recent mission report for you,” K said, handing it over. “I also have a meeting with you at this time to discuss upcoming missions.”

“Yes, you do,” Ezor said, pulling a file from a drawer in her desk. “Agent K… You aren’t good with a gun, right?”

“It’s not my forte,” K said. “I can use a gun. I prefer hand-to-hand.”

“All I need on this mission is surveillance, and I need someone who won’t just shoot out the windows on principle. Think you can handle it?”

“It’s surveillance.”

Ezor handed him the file. “There’s a rumor that the Voltron Alliance is having a secret meeting at this location in New York in three days. I need you to bug the place and get eyes on it.”

It was a small unit in an apartment complex in the middle of the city.  Surrounded by office buildings, the only way to see into the building was through the one small window out of many in the building. “It’s a smart location,” K said, making his voice sound irritated.

“Unfortunately, the Voltron Alliance is _not_ comprised of absolute morons, and it makes our job more difficult. But we’ve rented out an office space directly across from it. We’ll be supplying you with heat-vision binoculars as well as high-tech binoculars with facial recognition. If you want to bring weaponry, you may, but you may absolutely not engage. There’s a round trip ticket for a jet leaving from a small airfield just outside of the capital at 6 this evening.”

K scanned the file. “Sounds good,” he said. “Do you have the bugs?”

Ezor handed him a small drawstring pouch. “There are five GSM bugs in there. Space them out. Voltron is placing someone to watch the room tomorrow; right now there’s a family of tourists in there from Scandinavia. They’re scheduled to leave the apartment at 11 tomorrow.” She grinned at him. “Try not to kill them.”

K stood, taking a rubber band off her desk and wrapping it around the file. “I’ve never killed anyone in my life.”

“See you, Agent!” Ezor said, picking up her phone. K nodded to her, saluted Narti, and left.

He stopped off at the labs to sneak a mild sedative away from the scientists, and took the bus back to his apartment to drop off the file and pack a duffel bag. He emptied out a tiny conditioner bottle and poured the sedative inside, and then packed the conditioner bottle into a corner of his duffel.

The airfield, when he reached it, was pretty dead, with only one runway lit up and one plane with low lights at a gate. K headed towards it, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and showed his ticket to the man at the gate.

“Enjoy your flight,” the steward said, scanning the ticket and handing it back. He gestured for K to board.

As the plane took off, all K could think about was just how close he would be. He hadn’t been to America in months. It was still a Galra-occupied territory, (despite the American public’s best efforts) but its history as a democracy wasn’t what felt freeing about it.

His thoughts spun; his silent, infinite heartache grew louder and louder inside his chest. He stared resolutely at the fairy light strands of cities below him and let himself go. He knew, he knew he couldn’t trust anyone on this plane, but the clouds couldn’t read his face so he watched the sky fade purple and opened up his chest so that it burst with so much pain he could feel it in his throat. He cried, silently, didn’t let a tear fall past his chin. The man beside him fell asleep with his ring finger on the L key, his half-written email filling up with a thousand copies of the same letter.

When they landed, the first thing K did was walk to a public library, sat down at one of the computer cubbies, logged in as a guest, opened a new window, and went to his favorite email address.

Welcome, bottom4satan666. 

He snorted. Every time he saw it, he got a kick out of it. It was probably one of his proudest creations, that email address, and he was so pleased to find out, when he made it two years ago, that it wasn’t taken.

He opened up a new draft.

+

Allura Altea stretched in her desk chair at the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. She glanced at the Starbucks gift card sitting in her purse, the one the new intern had given her “because coffee is better than flowers.” It was sweet, but an ultimately fruitless gesture. She’d kept the gift card, though. She wasn’t an idiot.

She was about to stand when something in the false-bottomed drawer in her desk buzzed. She paused and opened it, turning the key in the hidden lock that unlocked the false panel, and pulled out the ancient iPhone XX. Pidge had commandeered it two years ago so it would still receive email.

But only one person ever sent this account any mail.

She smiled and grabbed her real phone off her desk, the one that people actually contacted, and called a number. It rang only once before someone picked up.

“ _Good evening, Princess_ . _To what do I owe this honor?_ ”

“Lance?” she asked. “You’re going to want to come up to my office. Now.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance misses Keith, but he's no army wife waiting around for her husband to come home, just so she can fall into his arms. Allura is his boss now, and she doesn't take shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! i'm back, and as promised, posting on the 25th of January.
> 
> MILD SPOILERS FOR TW: Lance has a flashback in a paragraph starting at "Lance sighed and hit the punching bag with a right hook," and it's solely in that one paragraph. Minor mentions of body horror early on at "Lance’s face contorted in pain." And of course, tw for really really terrible grammar.

“You wanted to see me, Prin-” Lance began, entering Allura’s office, stopping short when he saw her balancing on her swivel chair, turning off the security camera in the corner that was encoded to her iris and her fingerprint. She climbed down as gracefully as she could and turned around to watch his expression turn to excitement as he closed and locked the door, rushing to her desk. “Did you get another email?”

“I did,” she said, picking up the ancient cell phone. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready since I was  _ born _ ,” Lance said, bouncing into his chair. “I want to hear this so bad.”

Allura opened the email.

“ _ bebz im cuming over, i cant fukking standmy parents. they juts dont fucking undrestand me!!!!1! _ ” Allura paused. “He literally put a number one in the middle of all of those exclamation points. The word “coming” he spelled with a U.”

Lance was beaming. “I love him so much, Allura.”

Allura bit back a smile and kept reading. “ _ ill be thar 2nite & i cn stay 4 3 hole dayz beb, just hanging out @ ur place huh bebz?? ;)  _

_ my parents took me 2 a bee farm 2day 4 “fAmIlY bOnDiNg AcTiViTiEs” so now i have 5 FUCKIGN BEE STINGS (bc fckin bee farmers cant keeptheir bitch ass beez under fucking control ), _

_ so like i was just STANDING thar rite, n i felt liek this sting on my arm ( and ya i KILLED the bee )but i still hav da STING! n mi parents didnt see ANYTHING,  it was the WURST bebz, da bees wer all i culd hear,  was not Fucking Fun!!1!!!! _

_ “anyways i dont want u 2 talk abt anything super important on hear bc im afraid my parents mite log into my email and read them. I NO U GUYS READ MY TEXTS!!!! MOM DAD IF U R READIN DIS U SUCK AND I HATE U!!! idk bebby, tey havent hit me yet but its only a matter of tiem!! ok by bebz i luv u sm u r the luv of my lyfe and all of my lifes!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 _ ”

Allura looked up at Lance. “That’s it. Pretty sure that last part wasn’t meant for me.”

Lance had his hands pressed over his heart. “I’m the love of all of his  _ lifes _ ? That’s so sweet, Keith, aww.”

“He also spelled “love of my life” as L-U-V of my L-Y-F-E.”

“What a creative man,” Lance said. His face darkened and he cracked his knuckles. “But now…  it’s time to look past the emo and the bad spelling,” he postured, affecting a deep, foreboding movie narrator’s voice, “and figure out the meaning behind the edgelord’s words.”

“Okay,” Allura said, leaning across the desk. “ _ bebz im cuming over _ . He’s coming to America.” She ignored the hitch in Lance’s breath and continued. “ _ i cant fukking _ … I think he’s just complaining about the Galra there, but damn, he sells it well.”

Lance’s mouth thinned and he leaned across to look at the email. “He says they don’t understand him… what do you think they’re making him do?”

“Smile, probably,” Allura tried to joke, but Lance only gave her a half-laugh.

“ _ ill be thar 2nite… stay for 3 hole dayz _ ,” he said. “So he could be in America right now! And he’s staying for 3 days… that’s important. Allura, what’s happening in three days?”

Allura pulled up the calendar on her computer. “He’s talking about the 25th… we’re in New York, for a… shit. It’s a top-secret VA meeting with Mayor Holt.”

Lance’s face contorted in pain and Allura felt a similar horror tugging at her stomach as she thought about Matt, the horrible smell of his burnt flesh as Shiro and Keith had lifted his body into the helicopter as Coran flew him away from…

She shook her head. “It’s not about… it’s not about anything painful. It’s about Boston. All the riots there and what we can do about it. About helping the rioters against the Galra.”

Lance’s head shot up, his eyes huge. “How did they find out about it?”

Allura clenched her jaw. “They must have a spy here.”

Lance spluttered. “That’s not fair! That’s - ”

“Hypocritical of you to say,” Allura smirked, “considering everything.”

“But who the hell could their spy be?”

Allura shook her head. “We can figure that out later. Right now, we know the clock is ticking.”

“Right,” Lance said, blinking and nodding. His jaw was tight and his eyes were shining. “Right, okay. His parents took him to a bee farm… the whole email is about the bees.”

“The bees,” Allura mused. “They… his parents, the GIO, the empire, they took him… to see bees, and the bees stung him five times…”

“Bugs,” Lance realized. “The Galra gave him five  _ bugs _ . And he said… he said  _ he  _ saw the bees, but his parents didn’t… so he’s conducting surveillance on this meeting. Only he can see us, but he’s going to plant five bugs in the apartment that will record the entire meeting.”

“Lance, that’s brilliant!” Allura exclaimed, pulling out a notebook and writing down cursory notes. “Okay, what else does he say -- he says that the bee farmers can’t keep their bees under control? Does that mean something?”

“I don’t think so.” Lance shook his head. “Look, it’s in parentheses. Anything in parentheses can be removed and the meaning of the overall context won’t change. It just adds character. He’s just being extra.”

Allura laughed. “And he doesn’t want us talk about anything important on “hear” because his parents might read his emails… he hates them, blah blah blah, they haven’t hit him yet….  _ Oh _ .”

“Oh what?” Lance said.

“He’s talking about the meeting now… on  _ “hear” _ , H-E-A-R, he misspelled it  _ deliberately _ so that we’d know he was talking about the bugs! He says that we shouldn’t talk about anything important in the meeting because they’ll overhear, and they haven’t hit him… they haven’t figured him out yet!”

“I think it’s a double meaning too,” Lance interjected. “They haven’t figured him out yet but this is also a nonviolent mission. It means that it’s solely surveillance.”

Allura copied it down on the notepad.  _ Solely… surveillance. Walk careful line btwn important info & casual info in meeting. Inform May. Holt of bugs??? _

“And,” Lance was saying, “where he says  _ just hanging out at your place _ , he’s telling us not to move the meeting.”

“Well I’m not stupid,” Allura said. “I wouldn’t just give Keith away like that.”

“You know who  _ did  _ give Keith away,” Lance joked, wiggling his eyebrows, but as soon as the expression appeared, it had disappeared as he sat back in his chair with the face of someone who had just been punched in the stomach.

“Oh Lance,” Allura said, and she reached out a hand and put it on his shoulder. “He’ll be back. You’ll see him again.”

Lance sniffed and stared at the desk. “It’s been two years,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

“He might - your birthday is soon,” Allura offered kindly. “He might send something.”

“There’s nothing I want except -- ” Lance started but cut himself off. He stood suddenly, his fists clenched. “I have to go.”

“Lance,” Allura soothed, but he was already walking for the door. “Lance, do you want to talk about it?”

Lance turned towards her, gave her finger guns and a poor rendition of a cocky grin through watery, red-rimmed eyes. “Nope! Not at all.” He opened the door and danced away.

Allura sat back in her chair and refused to let the tears fall. She could save those for later. Right now, she had to inform the other three paladins and figure out what to discuss with Sam Holt. She also had a traitor to root out.

It was going to be a long night.

+

Lance found himself in the gym, crying and hitting a punching bag, his hands wrapped up. It was deserted, which was good; Lance was well known as an emotional guy, but having the entire PENTAGON catching him sobbing, walking through the hallway? No thanks. Not his idea of a good time, and rumors flew at the speed of light here.

But of course he had come to the gym. He and Keith had spent hours of quality time here, sparring and spotting each other and talking after the war -- Lance had lost weeks, months of time in this gym with Keith.

Although he didn’t like to think of it as a  _ loss _ . Even including their - admittedly rocky - start, Lance was firmly of the mindset that any time spent with Keith was time well spent. He’d  _ better _ be of that mindset, anyway. They were in  _ love _ .

_ i luv u sm u r the luv of my lyfe and all of my lifes!!! _

Keith always ended his emails to Allura’s fake email address with the same sentiment. It made sense in the character he’d created but at the same time, it made Lance’s heart swell too. Last time he’d emailed he’d ended with  _ *hugs & kisses u unitl the end of tyme bc i luv u with all of mi hart!!!*  _ Keith (who was the grumpiest of mullets) had never said 90% of those words in his  _ life _ , but Lance knew he meant it. Everything he said in his emails had a meaning and a purpose, and Lance was pretty sure Keith didn’t want to hug and kiss Allura until the end of time. Keith was pretty gay.

Lance sighed and hit the punching bag with a right hook, but it wasn’t a punching bag, it was a Galra soldier, and Lance never got involved with physical combat if he could help it but his rifle was somewhere on the ground back there and his handgun was out of bullets and so the soldier swung and the Galra suddenly had a bloody nose and then a split lip and his purple eyes promised hell and there was a scream but it was Lance’s and he was on his ass, staring at the punching bag again, in a deserted gym. He fought to get his racing heart under control.  _ Fuck.  _ **_Coño_ ** _.  _ **_Fuck._ ** This was why he never -  

“Lance,” said a voice and Lance jolted around, his chest heaving, to see Hunk hurrying towards him. “Lance, are you okay? None of us could reach you and Allura wanted to see all of us together as a group.” He crouched down beside Lance. “I… thought I might find you here.”

“You thought right,” Lance said.

“Is it… is it about Keith?” Hunk asked.

“I’m fine, dude it’s cool,” Lance answered, standing and brushing himself off. “I just lost my footing there, ate shit, it’s fine. Come on. Let’s go see what Allura wants.”

Hunk caught up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder as Lance unwrapped the bindings from his shaking fists. “I… I’m sure we’ll see him again soon, Lance.”

“He’ll probably see us sooner than we’ll see him,” Lance muttered sullenly.

Hunk whirled him around. “Do you - do you know something? What do you know?”

“Nothing I can say in public,” Lance said. “I’m sure Allura will tell you.”

Pidge and Shiro were already there when Lance and Hunk arrived. Pidge looked haunted, with dark circles under her eyes, running her hands over her newly buzzed hair. Shiro stood when they entered. He’d been off working as President Balmera’s personal bodyguard’s assistant bodyguard every other day, but spent most of his time at the White House; they didn’t see him that often anymore.

“Hey guys,” he said hoarsely, pulling Lance towards him like they were in Basic again, when Shiro was still open with his affection and craved human contact. “Lance.”

“Shiro,” Lance said, and tried not to cry again.

Hunk put his massive hands on Pidge’s tiny shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Hey, Pidge,” he said. “Good to see you. Wish you were around more often.”

“Can’t be helped,” Pidge hedged, staring at the ground. “The IT guys love me. What can I say?”

It hurt, this ramshackled, broken version of the family they used to be. Back in the Marines they had been a perfect squad of nine, and everyone had a place, and no one was more important than anyone else. They had positions in their own modern version of the knights of the round table, but here they were just five people that tried to balance each other out as best they could.

“I received an email from Keith today,” Allura said. “Lance helped me translate it.” She nods at Lance and he doesn’t feel a flicker of the pride he would have two years ago.

She quickly explains the contents of the email and then hands them each a sheet of paper ripped from a notebook, loopy blue cursive scrawled across each. “New information about the New York meeting. Read it, memorize it, burn it. Everything that’s on there is forbidden topics, topics that could get us in a lot of trouble if the Empire got their stinking purple hands on it.”

“Why don’t we just… sweep for bugs?” Hunk asked, leaning forward and spreading his hands. “You said there’d be five, right?”

“Keith would never allow himself to hide bugs that could be found in a routine sweep,” Lance protested from the corner. “Besides, wouldn’t they be suspicious?”

“We’re not a sloppy organization,” Pidge said. “They sent Keith because they knew he was the best. They know that no matter where we were, we would search to see if the place was being monitored. They sent him because he knows our routines and he’d be able to hide bugs that we wouldn’t find.”

“You’re all right,” Allura said. “We’ll sweep for bugs and if we find all five, then we proceed with the same caution. But if we don’t find all of them, we can’t trash the place. We can’t be overly suspicious, especially since we’re not sure if they’ve bugged us before.”

Pidge seemed satisfied with that answer, and she stood down.

“So, how do you expect us to proceed with the conversation we want to have?” Shiro asked. “We can’t discuss most of the topics we really need to discuss openly.”

“We’re pretty sure Keith is going to have eyes on us, so we need to be careful. We can’t just close the curtain, although we  _ should _ ; we don’t know what kind of technology he has - the email didn’t specify.” Allura sighed and rolled her eyes. “And honestly? I don’t like my solution much better.”

She held up the notebook.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Hunk said. “Okay, so I know that Voltron uses only paper for the sole purpose of being able to destroy it afterwards and the total lack of computer records it leaves. But this just seems like… a really antiquated idea.” He paused. “Are we going to  _ pass notes _ ?”

“We certainly can’t reschedule,” Shiro said, putting his chin in his hand. “I hate using computers for anything Voltron-related - yes, even with all of your encryption, Pidge.”

Pidge lifted her chin petulantly. “No Galra bitch could crack my code even if they had Edward Snowden on their side. Which, by the way, you guys, he wouldn’t be.”

“Listen. I have no doubt of Edward Snowden’s hypothetical loyalties to the Voltron Alliance,” Hunk interjected restlessly, “but can we just - get back to the topic at hand. Please.”

All heads turned to look at him.

“What’s up, Hunk?” Lance asked, pushing himself off the wall. “Got a hot date?”

“That - what I have doesn’t matter,” Hunk said. “We’re passing notes. That’s going to take a lot longer than just typing or even having a flat-out conversation. They might get suspicious.”

Lance shot Hunk a look that said,  _ We are talking about this, buddy. _ Hunk glanced at him and then back at Allura.

“It’s not a great option,” Allura sighed. “But it’s the one we’ve got. Unless anyone has a better one, you’re welcome to speak up.”

No one spoke up.

“It’s settled, then,” Allura said. She nodded to the pages in their hands. “Burn those once you know them.”

Lance folded his and stuck it in his pocket and followed Hunk out.

~

“Lance, I’m not telling you.”

Lance gave Hunk his best smolder from where he was lounging in the passenger seat. “Please tell me.”

“No.”

“Does it have to do with a hot girl? Hot guy? Hot non-binary person?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“…They’re not a  _ furry _ , are they?”

“Lance.”

Lance thought for a moment. “Is it something that will impact the team?”

Hunk didn’t take his eyes off the road. “I’m not telling.”

“If it’s something that’ll impact the team, Hunk, we need to know about it,” Lance said, sitting up straighter.

“It won’t impact the team,” Hunk said, but his fingers twitched on the wheel.

~

Hunk had unceremoniously dropped Lance on the front doorstep of his apartment building and sped off, leaving Lance staring after him in disapproval and disappointment. Whatever it was Hunk was hiding, it was going to impact the team.

Lance scoffed and unlocked the door, walking up the carpeted stairs. Everything was impacting the team nowadays. Nothing was ever going to go back to the way it was during the war, and wasn’t that a depressing thought? The idea that a  _ war _ had been the best time for the whole group, in terms of friendship and camaraderie?

“Of course it was,” he muttered to himself, unlocking the two locks on the first door. He walked through the first entryway, past the coat closet, and leaned down. He pressed one of the dog tags around his neck to a squishy sensor on the wall and the flap lowered to reveal an array of locks. Lance pressed his thumb to the fingerprint scanner and typed in the number sequence and unlocked the physical lock with his other key. “ _ The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of them all _ , or whatever _.  _ Thank God for  _ Mulan _ .”

He opened the door.

Every time - every, single, goddamn time Lance walked into his apartment, the one he’d lived in with Keith back before Keith had become a spy - his heart clenched with the very real hope that Keith would just  _ be there _ , reading a book in his big armchair or sleeping with his mouth partially open on the couch or eating Lucky Charms out of a mug in the kitchen. Living there, in his and Lance’s apartment, like he’d never left. And maybe he’d greet Lance with a smile, or an “if you’re going to say anything about the cereal, don’t,” or a, “this book is pretty bad.” Or maybe, if he was there but he had to go back at some point, he’d say, “Do I know you?” because they were the first words Keith had spoken to him in the army and it had become their personal code to let the other know that it was  _ them _ , that they were  _ there _ but they wouldn’t be able to stay forever, that it wasn’t permanent.

You’d think, after two years of Keith being gone, that Lance would have his shit together about this, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

He checked his windows for all of his traps - everything was in order, as he’d left it - and replaced the string that broke every time the front door opened. He reset his door alarm and then finally, he could relax.

He walked over to the fireplace and rested an arm on the mantle, letting his gaze travel across the framed photographs scattered across it. That one was of Keith, that one was Keith and Lance, that one was Lance, Pidge, and Hunk, that one was Team Supernova – Lance, Hunk, and Shay. One of the final ones was a picture of their entire squad that Coran – he insisted on their calling him “Coran” instead of “Lieutenant Smythe” now that they weren’t under his direct command – had taken just after Shiro had escaped from a POW camp in Galra-occupied Germany.

He picked it up, and his thumb traced lightly, lovingly, across the glass, remembering the night. There was a campfire, and chocolate, and marshmallows…

_ “You guys will never believe what I found,” Hunk says, out of breath, running to greet them. Lance looks up from where he and Keith are bent together, talking quietly, and he puts a hand on Keith’s knee. _

_ “What did you find?” Shay asks from across the campfire, leaning on Matt although she’s holding Plaxum’s hand. Matt’s running his fingers through Pidge’s messy hair. _

_ Hunk holds up a hand and Shiro gasps in excitement. It’s a glorious sound and Lance looks over to see Keith proudly grinning at his old best friend. “Are those… marshmallows?” _

_ “Yup! And, and, and,” Hunk adds, turning his hand around so that they could see what was behind the bag of marshmallows. “Chocolate.” _

_ “Somebody find nine sticks, immediately,” Lance says. “There’s a forest literally right behind us.” _

_ “On it!” Pidge says, leaping up and running into the gloom of the forest. _

_ “Will someone go with her, please,” Shiro sighs, sounding less like a traumatized POW and more like an overworked soccer mom. It’s a good look on him. _

_ Keith stands. “Nebula 3,” he says, shaking his head. “Always running off places.” He goes to follow her but Lance shouts after him. _

_ “That’s you, babe!” he calls and it gets a round of chuckles from the group. _

_ Hunk sits in between Allura and Plaxum and hands Allura the bag of marshmallows. “Here, take one.” _

_ Allura looks concerned for a second. “I have a very specific diet that I must adhere to at all times - ” _

_ “Relax, princess!” Lance says, leaning over so he’s resting on Shiro’s leg. “One marshmallow won’t do you any harm. Besides, this is a nice night, we’re all together, one big happy family. We should all roast at least one marshmallow all together.” _

_ He knows Allura’s caving, but she puts up a fight before the tantalizing bag of puffy sucrose wins out. “Oh, alright.” _

_ Lance cheers and his eyes catch on Pidge and Keith walking out of the woods with Lt. Smythe hot on their heels. “Did I hear somebody say ‘marshed mallows?’” he asks, with his usual flamboyance and panache. _

_ “You did, Lieutenant,” Shiro says, making as if to stand and salute, but Smythe waves him away. _

_ “At ease, Corporal. We’re hardly on any sort of duty now.” He takes out his phone and waves it around. “I’d like to take a picture of all of you, if that’s alright. It’s…” He pauses, and with growing horror, Lance realizes there are real tears in his eyes. “It’s good to have you back, Takashi.” _

_ “It’s good to be back,” Shiro murmurs, and Keith walks by, comfortably putting a hand on Shiro’s back and giving him one of the sticks he and Pidge had found. He throws Lance one of the two he’s left holding and then sits down a far too considerable distance away from him. _

_ “Don’t be ridiculous,” Lance murmurs to him, pulling him into his lap as Keith squawks and pretends to struggle, his eyes flickering towards their commanding officer. Smythe starts dancing around the circle, making silly faces and taking pictures of the rag tag group around the fire. “Smythe doesn’t care. And I know you hate pictures, babe.” _

_ “I do,” Keith grumbles, settling in between Lance’s legs, “but I hate you more.” _

_ “Untrue,” Lance says, digging his fingers into Keith’s side, trying to find a tickle spot. He hasn’t yet, but Keith can’t be completely immune to tickles. He’ll find it someday. Keith just gives him an unimpressed look. “You  _ love _ me.” _

_ Keith’s face is softening and Lance’s stomach is turning to jelly, but Smythe is snapping his fingers in Lance’s face. “Look lively, folks! I’ve found the perfect angle, but all of you need to smile at the camera and say VOLTRON at the same time, and like you really mean it!” _

_ “I say Vol-, you say - ” _

_ “LANCE.” _

_ Lance gives Keith his best shit-eating grin and turns to look at Smythe’s camera. Keith is looking too, but Lance can tell his smile is forced. _

_ “3… 2… 1… ” _

_ Lance noses at Keith’s neck as the shutter flashes and the squad says, “VOLTRON!” He can feel Keith’s smile loosening into something much gentler, much more genuine, and yeah, so h _ is face didn’t really come out in the picture but it was a full-on group picture that isn’t a blurry candid shot and Keith was giving a real smile, not one that looked like someone had just grabbed the corners of his mouth and pulled.

Lance put the photograph back down on the mantle and pulled the paper out of his pocket, unfolding it and sitting down on his couch. He had work to do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is alternatively titled: KEITH IS ACTUALLY THE AUTHOR OF MY IMMORTAL
> 
> [main](http://gravitvs.tumblr.com) [fandom/voltron](http://paladumb.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had seen Lance in almost every way a person could see Lance, at this point in his life. From a screen, a file, binoculars, a scope. In person, but from across the room; from the passenger’s seat of a car; waking up next to him as the morning dawned. In laughter, in kindness, in pity and empathy and generosity. What he looked like when he was sick, scared, angry, behind a sniper rifle, killing Galra soldiers as they rushed his teammates, with dirt smeared across his camo gear and his face. Standing in the doorway of the barracks, standing on his tiptoes to ruffle Hunk’s hair, dancing with Plaxum, a salute, sticking his tongue out at a four-star general behind his back. What he’d looked like when Keith hated him, tolerated him, loved him, trusted him.
> 
> And every time, Lance took his breath away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I wrote this before season 5 came out, so Keith's mom won't be in keeping with her character in the show. Also, sorry for the month late post to the tumbleweed- filled desert that's reading this! My wifi's been going on and off. and it's been hard to post.
> 
> [main](http://gravitvs.tumblr.com)fandom
> 
> This chapter is also titled: WHEN IN DOUBT, JUST BLAME RUSSIA and NAME ALL YOUR VILLAINS AFTER GENOCIDAL GRECO-ROMAN EMPERORS
> 
> Next update should be two weeks from now.

**THREE**

There were thirteen lettered Galra agents, and each one was universally feared. The Galra Empire allowed no news articles to be printed on them and no official information released, although that didn’t stop the horror stories from spreading. But within Galra governmental facilities, any agent with no name save for a letter was treated with the utmost respect.

So when Agent K strode into the Galratian embassy in New York City, the citizens and government workers parted way for him as he flashed his ID at a guard who hastily allowed him in.

“Agent K,” greeted an out-of-breath voice behind him. K kept walking. “I’m Bibo Bih, the executive manager at New York City’s Galratian Embassy, and I’d be happy to provide you with whatever you need. What…  _ do _ you need?”

“A syringe,” K said.

“Of course, Agent,” Bibi Boy (or whatever his name was) said, and there was the sound of hurried footsteps. “A syringe it will be. Is there anything else? Transportations, arms, food, perhaps?”

“You to stop talking,” K said.

Boy Bee stopped talking.

A syringe was brought, and Boss Baby presented it to K. “A syringe,” he said, and K tucked it into his duffel bag. “Is there anything else?”

“No,” K said, and smiled with his teeth. Baja Fresh blanched. “Thank you.”

He used the bathroom close to the exit to change into jeans and a t-shirt, fitting a baseball cap over his head and changing his shoes to worn sneakers. He exited a completely different man, and this time, the crowds did not part for him.

K genuinely liked undercover missions. He didn’t have to deal with people like he did at HQ. Everyone ignored him. He wasn’t a super terrifying, armed Galra secret agent to the pedestrians around him - just another guy with a duffel bag and cap.

Evening in New York City was lovely as well, K thought, sparing one last glance to the lights behind him as he entered the huge apartment complex he was about to bug. The lights, the sunset, the people milling around. He started up the stairs. They were good exercise and Keith had stamina for days.

He reached the 23rd floor barely breathing heavily, and started down the rows of apartments. 231… 232… He reached 235, finally, and pressed his ear to the door. A holovision was playing quietly inside.

Each apartment was laid out in such a style that it was difficult to enter undetected from anywhere in the apartment. He’d been informed that every door in apartment 235 had incredibly squeaky hinges as well, which meant there was no easy, silent entrance.

There was nothing else for it. K rang the doorbell and readied the syringe, tying his bandana across his mouth.

“Honey, could you get that?” said a voice inside, and then footsteps. A big blond man swung the door open. He had barely finished saying “Can I help y-” when K swung the syringe into his neck and pressed down.

The effect was instantaneous. The man’s knees buckled and he crumpled. K caught him and lowered him gently to the floor.

“Who is it?” his wife called, and she looked back and saw Keith, and she opened her mouth to scream -

K leapt across the room and covered her mouth with his hand. She bit down on one of his fingers with irritatingly sharp teeth, but he didn’t let go, changing his grip on the syringe. She was already begging - “ _ please,  _ please, I have a baby, please don’t - ” but K pressed down on the syringe in her neck and she went limp.

“I’m not gonna hurt your  _ baby _ ,” he grumbled at her, gently leaning her head back on the couch.

K poked his head through a half-opened door, saw the baby sleeping inside, and backed out as quietly as possible. He didn’t need a screaming baby to complicate things.

He went to work immediately, hiding the bugs in his favorite spots. Two he knew that the Voltron Alliance would find: one on the inside of a lamp, one behind a mirror. (He attached a tiny note that read  **XD** to that one.) Two he knew would be difficult to find: one inside an electrical outlet, and one behind a radiator. The last he put inside an oven knob.

He went back to the woman and pulled out his knife, putting in in front of her mouth. It fogged up; she was still breathing. The husband, too, was still alive. K had specifically chosen the allergen-free sedative, but who knows  _ what _ people might be allergic to. He scanned the room for the last time. The holovision was still playing, and the baby was still sleeping. All good things.

He locked the door from the inside and then left.

~

Three days later found K in the office building directly across the street from the apartment building and bored to tears, with empty granola bar wrappers and takeout bags littered around him, the two pairs of binoculars and the sight from his sniper rifle (that he rarely used) set up on the windowsill of the little office that the GIO had reserved for him. He had a radio that recorded and collected all that the bugs recorded live, and so far everything had been ultimately uninteresting. One of the guys that was apartment-sitting until the meeting was playing some stupid game on his phone the whole time, with check-ins every half hour. He was relieved after four hours.

K let himself take little two-hour naps sometimes in the middle of those four-hour shifts, but he never slept well. Sometimes he saw charred flesh; sometimes he saw the empty stump where an arm used to be; sometimes he saw blue eyes. And always, the gunshots aligned with every beat of his heart.

He checked his watch. 12:30. The meeting was scheduled to begin at 2. He expected some of the VA to arrive early to begin the search for the bugs he’d mentioned in his email, so he sat up and kept looking through the heat-vision binoculars. One tiny little person, sitting slumped on a couch, playing on his phone.

Over the radio, he heard the sound of a door creaking open, and two figures entered the room. The person on the couch leapt to his feet. A tinny, “ _ Corporal Espinosa! Commander Altea!” _

A shudder ripped through K.

“ _ Hey, Sean,”  _ Lance Espinosa’s  _ fucking _ voice said cheerily over the radio. “ _ Good to see you! Didn’t know they put you on guard duty for this lousy assignment.”  _ A figure moved forward to shake couch-man’s hand.

_ “Lance,”  _ Allura’s voice scolded.  _ “Thank you, Sean. We’ll see you back in D.C.” _

K made a call to Agent H, who was overseeing the mission. “Bugs are coming through loud and clear on my end,” he said. “Two members of the VA just entered the building.”

“ _ We can hear them,” _ Agent H said. “ _ Notify me of any updates in movement. _ ”

“Acknowledged,” K said, and ended the call.

_ “Lance, we need to sweep for bugs, _ ” Allura said.  _ “While you do that, I’m going to call Shiro and let him know we’re here. _ ”

“ _ I always get the fun jobs,”  _ Lance grumbled, but he started moving around anyway, throwing things around, opening things up. K watched his little red figure peer behind something. “ _ Found one _ .”

“ _ Where?-- yes, hi, Shiro - ” _

“ _ Behind the radiator.” _

He spent a good ten minutes searching before he ended up finding the one behind the mirror and in the lamp. Watching through the heat-vision binoculars, K saw him move towards the window before K threw himself towards the rifle sight and peered through.

Lance opened the curtains and K’s breath stopped.

He had seen Lance in almost every way a person could see Lance, at this point in his life. From a screen, a file, binoculars, a scope. In person, but from across the room; from the passenger’s seat of a car; waking up next to him as the morning dawned, walking down the aisle, kissing him in a sun-bright church. On his knees, on his back, what he looked like when he came, what he looked like the first time Keith had kissed him, sex eyes from across a lavish White House dinner table. In laughter, in kindness, in pity and empathy and generosity. What he looked like when he was sick, scared, angry, behind a sniper rifle, killing Galra soldiers as they rushed his teammates, with dirt smeared across his camo gear and his face. Standing in the doorway of the barracks, standing on his tiptoes to ruffle Hunk’s hair, dancing with Plaxum, a salute, sticking his tongue out at a four-star general behind his back. Short hair, long hair, his eyes filling with the moon over the Mediterranean when Keith brought him to the edge of the sea at midnight. What he’d looked like when Keith hated him, tolerated him, loved him, trusted him.

And every time, Lance took his breath away.

He peered up at the space above the window, ran a finger along the ledge, the windowsill, and Keith drank him in like starlight, the way his hands fluttered and the sunlight fell across his nose right where Keith  _ knew _ his freckles were and the breeze tousled his hair. It was longer than the last time Keith had seen him. He had stubble, too, along his jaw, and an earring that caught the sun, and there was a thin chain around his neck but whatever hung from it was hidden by his shirt, and Keith just wanted, wanted, wanted him so much he  _ ached _ for it, and then Allura said,  _ “Lance, close that window, you’re going to let in all the flies, _ ” and Lance said,  _ “Sorry, princess,” _ and Keith thought,  _ don’t close the window _ , and Lance closed the window and drew the curtains.

The meeting was lackluster. They spoke to Mayor Holt, Mayor Holt spoke back, and none of it was important information. K understood: his email had worked. Agent H was on the phone, irritated and impatient: “ _ I thought this meeting was supposed to be an exchange of  _ valuable _ intel _ ,” and K watched as Allura and Mayor Samuel Holt touched hands multiple times under the table.

He took a jet back to Galratia that evening, and when he went to check in with her, Ezor was furious.

“Agent K,” she beamed happily, showing all of her teeth, “I am going to kill Rolo Beeza. Actually, no,” she said, and slammed a file down on her desk. “I want you to do it.”

“What did he do?” K asked absently, skimming through the file. Former sleeper agent for the Voltron Alliance for two years, contacted to activate by the GIO in March, had been providing small intel in the four months since.

“He said that he heard about the big huge secretive meeting that you just bugged,” Ezor said, smiling. “And it turned out to be a bust. He’s done this before, too,” she said. “Given us bad or unimportant intel.”

“Why not just bring him back and demote him, then?” K asked her. The second the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were the wrong things. Ezor leaned across the desk, her blouse stretching, her blood-red lips curling into a smirk, her elegantly curled hair falling across her shoulders. Her lavender eyes bored into K’s.

“Because I don’t half-ass  _ anything _ .”

If K had been straight at all, it would have been unbelievably hot. As it was, Acxa cleared her throat uncomfortably in the back of the room.

“Fucking kill him, please,” Ezor said. “I have more important matters to attend to now.” Her eyes fixed on Acxa, who stepped forward, and K high-tailed it out of there.

His phone beeped, and he opened it to see a new text.

_ Lunch with your dear mother with whom you haven’t talked for a month? _

He sighed and leaned against a wall, texting back.  _ Got a plane ticket out of Galratia tomorrow evening. We can meet up before then _

She responded immediately:  _ Of course baby see you at Vrepit Sal’s tomorrow at 12? _

_ See you _ , K texted, and began his trip back to his apartment.

His mother, Krolia Kim. She was a scientist in one of the Galra luxite labs, working on different ways to weaponize the strongest metal in the world.

Luxite had been the reason Galratia had won the Galra War. In fact, it was the reason they had  _ started  _ it.

Luxite was found  _ only _ in Galratia, deep in mines that had only ever produced iron and copper. But after digging deeper for years, miners had struck upon a dark metal that reflected  _ purple _ . They passed it around; it bent easily under a hammer and anvil but refused to break, no matter how they tried. Galra labs studied it in secret for years before they announced it to the world: they had discovered a new element. They called it  _ Luxite _ , or by its chemical symbol, Lux. They sent tiny samples to labs across the globe, and mines across all continents dug deeper in hopes of finding their own deposits of luxite - but no such luck. It was all in Galratia.

They began to mass-produce weaponry and armor made of luxite, knives and bullets. The bullets could pierce nearly anything, and the metal was so frictionless it could rip smoothly through bulletproof armor and glass. The world panicked and attempted to buy everything that Galratia offered, that Galratia had made. The UN made nice. The US offered to make it a rich country.

Galratia had never been a rich country. It had been a mining facility that had gained unstable independence in the 1900s and had had troubles with Russia, who loomed behind it and greedily made grabby hands at its ore. Vladimir Putin’s troublesome successor had sent countless military operations into Galratia, terrorized its people, and frightened its leaders into doing everything for Russia.

But with that discovery of the tons and tons of luxite, things changed. The Galra people finally stood a chance against the weight of the Russian military, and overnight they turned the tide. Luxite weapons and protective gear was distributed, and leaders of rebel factions stood on soapboxes, screaming about the Russian treatment of the Galra and the shadow they had been quivering under - well, no more! Tonight, they proclaimed to the world, we fight back!

Luxite worked miracles. Russian soldiers were fleeing Galratia in droves, with furious mobs waving the luxite weaponry like pitchforks. Dead soldiers lay in the streets. It was a bloodbath, and the Galra were overwhelmingly victorious.

It had led the president of Galratia, Antiochus Zarkon, down a train of thought that the UN feared it would: if simple citizens could overcome hoards of Russians in one night… what could a full-fledged military accomplish against more countries?

_ President Zarkon. _ Now he was emperor of the world. Foreign leaders and governments stayed on as figureheads and foot soldiers, surface-level keepers of the peace and executors of the law, but the people pulling the strings were the Galra and those who worked for them. Luxite and luxite weaponry was solely distributed to those loyal to Galratia and her empire.

(Safely at his apartment, K pulled out his luxite knife and studied it. The dark gray metal glimmered purple in his low ceiling lights, and he closed his eyes, aimed, and threw.

When he opened his eyes, the knife was directly in the center of the target hanging on the wall.)

~

“Mother,” K said, as she stood up from her booth to greet him.

“Keith, darling,” Krolia Kim said, kissing his cheek. “How have you been doing? Well, I hope?”

“Yeah,” K said, sitting and absently studying the menu.

“You look strong,” she mused, her eyes flickering all over him. “Have you been working much lately?”

“I got back from a mission yesterday,” K told her. “It was ultimately useless.”

“That’s disappointing,” she said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” K said. “My next mission rectifies the circumstances that made it so.”

Krolia’s face curved into a smile. “Don’t make it too painful, okay?”

K finally looked up from his menu and almost smiled back. “I only take orders from General Ezor.”

His mother scoffed, leaning back in her seat and looking out the window. “Oh, Ezor. She’s crazy, that one. A genius, but absolutely off her rocker.”

K shrugged lightly. “She’s my commanding officer.”

They ordered their food and Krolia leaned forward. “Keith,” she sighed. “Are you happy?”

“I told you not to call me that,” K said, folding his arms. “Just K.”

“See, that’s what I mean,” Krolia said, gesturing at him. “It’s like you’ve completely lost yourself. You’re - you’re so dedicated to the Galra Empire, which of course we all are here, but you’ve taken it so far. You only talk about yourself as an agent - never as a person.”

“I throw myself into my work,” K muttered.

“Keith, when I met you, you were so conflicted, but you had humanity at your core,” Krolia said. “I thought that working for Emperor Zarkon - glorify his name! - would resolve that conflict and open you up more as a person.” She put a hand on his arm. “Keith, I love you no matter what, but I don’t want you to be an empty shell. You’re so closed off.”

K stared at her hand on his arm for a very long time, weighing his options. 

When he finally spoke, he said, “In the war, it was all less personal. Now that I’m here, I’m - I understand who I killed then, and who I’m killing now. No matter what, no matter who I hurt, I’ve betrayed someone at some point in my life.” He stared past her, trying to make his voice sturdier. “Every mission is for the good of the world, I know, and I know I’m working towards a better future for every Galra citizen. But each mission file has a person on the other end, and when I study their file, it humanizes them, I feel like I know them, and it makes each mission more personal for me. Each kill just gets harder.” He took a deep breath. “It’s easier to just close myself off.”

“Oh, baby,” Krolia sighed. “Come here.” She moved around to the other side of the table and held K in her arms, and he shuddered, his stomach churning. “I’m sorry, honey, I am. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to find you sooner. I’m sorry you didn’t grow up as one of us. I feel like I failed you.”

“You  _ did _ fail me,” K snapped, pushing her off and scooting to the other side of the bench. “I was - I was so lonely, for all of my life. And where were you? Serving Emperor Zarkon, with no time for your  _ son _ . And then Dad died and I thought you’d come back to get me but you never did. And I - you needed to work for your homeland, for your country, I  _ get _ that, but you could have done that with me.”

“I thought about you  _ every day _ ,” Krolia murmured, reaching for his hands. K pulled them away. “Every day, Keith, I promise. When I met you - when I finally found you, and you were part of Voltron - I thought I’d truly lost you forever, but you - you came around. You found yourself in Galratia, I know you did. And I hope that - you can someday come around again, and forgive me for not being there for you for so long.”

Keith stared at the table, and the waitress arrived, holding two plates and shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. “I can come back later - ” she started hesitantly, but Krolia shook her head and moved back to the other side of the booth.

“No, no, it’s alright,” she smiled. “Put the food down. We’re sorry to make such a scene.”

The waitress left the food - a BLT for K, a bowl of soup for Krolia - and hurried away.

“We should talk about this some other time, Keith,” Krolia said, tucking in. “But for now - would you like to hear about the progress we’re making in the labs?”

“Okay,” K said.

“Well! We’ve been working with the gaseous state of luxite and it is, in fact,  _ so unbelievably hot _ …”

K let her talk, paying attention and committing everything to his memory so he could tell Allura in his next email home. But for now, he thought, he was just going to enjoy this BLT and a rare, nice, moment with the only blood relative he knew before everything went back to shit.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Kill Prince Lotor.”_
> 
> _The three team Corporals - Lance, Shiro, and Allura - are sitting close together in front of Lt. Smythe’s desk, asked to come in for the next Voltron Squadron assignment - but they never could have expected anything this big, or important. For the first time since they’ve known him, Lt. Smythe’s voice is deadly serious._
> 
> _Lance gapes. “Are you for real?”_
> 
> _“The orders came from way above my pay grade,” Smythe says. “And I mean WAY above. So yes, I am for real.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they're posting..... ON TIME!!!!! WOOOOOOO!!!!!
> 
> This is a LONG ASS CHAPTER. it's like 6k words this is longer than half the fics I've ever written ever
> 
> And there are a lot of triggers: Anytime the writing goes into italics, it's a flashback. Watch out for death, vomit, body horror, violence.
> 
> This chapter is alternately entitled: FIND THE GAY DECEIVERS (1969) MEME REFERENCE or HUNK IS THAT ONE BIG GUY FROM MULAN WHO ALWAYS CALMS DOWN THE ANGRY GUY or AM I GOING TO HAVE A FLASHBACK IN EVERY CHAPTER? U BET I AM
> 
> Shout out to my beta reader, @AmbitiousSkychild! I love you <3

****_ “ _ **_THEY TOOK SHIRO!_ ** _ ” _

_ A scream, and Lance is outside his rifle, watching, Keith running after two soldiers dragging Shiro’s body - a helicopter - Allura shooting wildly at the windows, and Lance watches himself aim at the helicopter as it takes off, shoot, shoot, shoot, _

_ he can’t do anything to help, even though he tries to run, get to the helicopter, and then it starts spitting bullets and shit, shit, shit, luxite - take cover - next to him, Shay screams in pain and Hunk shouts her name over comms and her screams echo echo like a long hallway, like a canyon and everything he - he can’t do anything except sit and watch as the helicopter flies away and Keith sobs in his ear, _

Lance burst into consciousness, shooting up straight in his massive fucking bed. He grabbed his handgun from under his pillow, rolling off the bed to crouch behind it, his breathing absolutely silent, his body absolutely still.  _ Control your breaths. They can’t know you’re here. Uno. Dos. Tres. Cuatro.  _ His heartbeat was too loud.

He stared at the wall until he realized what he was seeing, and he slowly stood up, bit by bit, until he was fully upright, staring at the spots of sweat on his covers and the sheets, kicked off the bed.

He sighed, rubbing a trembling hand over the stubble on his jaw, and reached over to check the time on his phone.  _ 4:36 AM _ . Nice.

Well, there was no going to sleep after that. Happy birthday to him, too. 

He made his way into the dark kitchen, turned on the light, and froze.

On the table was a bouquet of red flowers.

He hadn’t realized he was still holding his gun until he had it cocked and pointing out into the hallway, his hands totally still, his eyes piercing the darkness.

He nudged the light switch with his shoulder and his living room flared to quiet life, illuminating all the corners. No one. He checked the closets. The bathroom. Under his bed. In the stove. His heartbeat thrummed. He turned around, lowering the gun and stepping towards the flowers.

He scooped them up.

They were all red, with a couple white flowers throughout, but they weren’t all the same; Lance might not know his flowers, but at least he knew roses when he saw them. He looked back at the table. 

There was a card. He held the flowers in one hand, put the gun on the table, and picked it up.

_ \--I know you’re going to freak out about these when  _ _   
_ _ you see them, I’m sorry. I happened to be in town today  _ _   
_ _ and I couldn’t stay away, even though I know I should. _ _   
_ _ I love you so much. Happy birthday, Lance. _ _   
_ __ (ps. Check the back of the card)

Lance sniffed and told himself he wouldn’t cry, even though he was  _ definitely  _ already crying. He turned the card around.

_ Roses - duh. _ _   
_ _ Amaryllis - splendid beauty (you) _ _   
_ _ Red chrysanthemums - I love you _ _   
_ _ Primrose - I can’t live without you _ _   
_ _ Red carnations - deep love, affection _ _   
_ __ Gardenia - secret love :(

Lance laughed quietly and scrubbed a tear away. He sank into one of the chairs at the table and ran his thumb over the handwriting on the card, Keith’s unintentionally loopy vowels and sharp consonants as familiar as Lance’s own spiky script. 

He curled the card into his fist and held it as close to him as he could, closing his eyes. He tried to imagine Keith standing in his dark kitchen, scribbling down the note on the card, or standing awkwardly at a flower shop, trying to explain what he wanted to whoever was at the desk, climbing the staircase to Lance’s apartment - 

Lance sat bolt upright. How the hell had Keith gotten in? The flowers were in near-perfect condition. Lance could  _ see  _ the pen Keith had used to write the note; it was lying on the table in a place Lance  _ knew _ he hadn’t put it.

He immediately checked his phone; there were no alerts, no alarms. Nothing that said  _ Someone that is not Leandro Espinosa has just entered your apartment _ , which meant that Keith hadn’t entered through the door.

He checked the windows in his bedroom, and then the bathroom. His traps were all still there; nothing was displaced.

The living room, however - 

Lance always kept a penny on top of the inside windowpane in his living room. If the window was opened, the penny fell off and landed silently on the carpet.

The penny was on the carpet. Lance picked it up and put it on top of the windowpane, leaning against the frame and looking out into the city, his eyes scanning over the blinking lights and inky black of the sky. A siren, a helicopter, some shouts.

Keith was out there, somewhere.

Lance shuffled back to his kitchen, and picked up the flowers, ignoring the gun still on the table. He had to find a vase.

~

“Good morning, Lance,” Pidge said, tapping away at a computer. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Pidgey,” Lance grinned, and she glared at him. “Pronouns?”

“They/them,” Pidge said absently, leaning forward and narrowing their eyes at their screen. “Do you need something?”

“Just your love and well-wishes,” Lance said, and Pidge kicked him. “Ow! Okay, so yes, I do. I…” He took a deep breath, because Pidge was about to win a major victory. “I just want to install a motion sensor in my apartment that links to my phone.”

At that, they looked up sharply, almost gleeful. “You’re kidding.”

Lance sighed. “One of my traps was disturbed last night. Wait - ah! Wait. Before you yell at me and tell me You Told Me So, I checked the whole place, did a huge sweep for bugs, nothing was stolen and nothing was added, but I didn’t like it. So…”

“You need my tech,” Pidge said, and leapt up. “You need my awesome, beautiful,  _ sexy _ motherfucking tech.”

“Yes, I need your tech,” Lance groaned. “Can we please not - ”

“Oh, no, we are  _ totally  _ doing this,” Pidge said, beginning a loud and joyful search through a filing cabinet that was filled with Not Files. “I told you for months. I told you for years. I told you before Ke- well, I told you right after the war ended, you need my security systems in your home, and what did you do?”

Lance looked down at the floor and mumbled, “Only installed the fingerprint scan-”

“Only installed the fingerprint scanner.” They rummaged through a drawer. “And now, after five LONELY years without Big Gender-Non-Denominational Sibling watching over your shoulder, you finally are prepared to be subject to the whims of…” They whirled, a small device held in their hand. “Me!”

Lance sighed. “That’s definitely not how you use ‘non-denominational,’ Pidge.”

“Don’t mansplain me,” Pidge said, and connected the devices to their computer. “Give me your phone.”

Lance gave them his phone.

They started typing things and connecting things faster than Lance could follow, talking the whole time. “I’m configuring this to connect to your lock system at the door as well,” they said. “It won’t set off the alarm if you walk in using your fingerprint scanner AND your dog tags AND the ID, and it won’t detect you moving around at home if you’ve entered with the scanner. Your door will register when you leave and reset the alarm for the motion detector.”

“What’s the alarm?” Lance asked.

“Glad you asked,” Pidge said. “If someone walks in unannounced, your phone will buzz M-D over and over again in Morse.”

“MD?”

“Motion Detected, dummy,” Pidge explained like they were talking to a child. “You can also set a schedule for the time you’ll be gone, and even if someone enters using all the right systems - fingerprint, whatever - during that time, you’ll still get an alert. Useful, huh?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, almost breathless. “Pidge, did you design all this?”

“I told you my tech was awesome,” Pidge preened. 

“It totally is,” Lance told them, putting a hand on their shoulder, and their face went red.

“Thanks, Lance,” they muttered, and Lance patted their soft new buzzcut. “Hey! Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m just showing you my UNCONDITIONAL LOVE!” Lance wailed at them, and they pushed him away, laughing.

“It’s all set up, stupid,” they said, handing him the detectors. “There’s six there. It has a fisheye lens, so put it in a clear corner and it’ll see the whole room.”

“Thanks, Pidge,” Lance said, hugging them to him, despite their fervent protests. “I owe you bunches.”

“You’re so far in the red when it comes to owing me that- ” Pidge started, laughing, but Lance’s phone made a shrill noise and he peered at it.

_ Lance, are you with Pidge? Hunk’s brought some visitors! _

It was from Allura. Lance showed Pidge the text.

“Visitors?” Pidge asked, standing and scratching their head. “I wonder - ” Their face filled with hope. “You don’t think it’s - ”

“The lesbian lights of my life?” Lance blurted out.

“I’m gonna hit you,” Pidge said, hurrying ahead. “I thought  _ I  _ was the lesbian light of your life.”

“I can have more than one,” Lance protested, hitting the button for the elevator twenty times. “Besides, you’re different. You’re the  _ ace  _ lesbian light of my life.”

“Bitch, you know it,” Pidge said, wedging their tiny body into the elevator next to Lance as the doors opened. “I can’t wait to see them.”

“When was the last time those two visited?” Lance asked. “It was ages ago, wasn’t it?”

“Ages,” Pidge said. “I feel bad I never went up to see them. They’re so close by, too…”

“I know Hunk always went up,” Lance mused. “And I was pretty sure Allura stayed there from time to time too…”

The elevator doors opened and they rushed off, feet slamming against the hallway floors, skidding to a stop in front of Allura’s partially open office door, where several figures were talking quietly, and Allura was standing on her chair in front of the camera again.

Lance threw the door open the full way and beamed at the two women who turned around to greet him. “Plaxum! Shay!” he said, and launched himself at Shay, who caught him easily.

“Lance!” she said in her sweet, shaky voice. “It’s so wonderful to see you! Happy birthday!” Next to him, Pidge and Plaxum were hugging it out too, and Plaxum was putting a little flower behind Pidge’s ear. “How are you?” She held him at arm’s length and studied his face. “You look so tired.”

“It’s my aesthetic,” Lance shrugged. “How are you? I’m sorry I haven’t come up to New York to visit you!”

“We’re doing as well as we can,” Shay said, smiling gently at Plaxum, who had finally let go of Pidge and was gliding forward to greet Lance, holding her long, willowy arms out.

“Happy birthday, Lance,” she beamed, and Lance threw himself around her. “Oh, holding you in my arms is a joyous moment.”

Lance burst out laughing. “You’re a sap,” he said, clutching her and twirling her around, pulling back to cup her face in one hand, studying her features. “And like sap, with each passing day you turn more beautiful, until one day your gorgeous features will be immortalized as exquisite amber.”

Plaxum’s jaw dropped and she smacked him lightly, the physical version of the groan that went around the room.

Shay was laughing though, and she lay one giant hand on Lance’s head and ruffled his hair. “That was the longest pick-up line I’ve ever heard,” she said. “You’re a poet, Lance.”

Plaxum fit herself directly under Shay’s arm, tucking into her side. “I have a  _ girlfriend _ , Lance.” She took another tiny flower from her purse and gently placed it behind Shay’s ear. “And for that, you don’t get a flower.”

Lance whirled to look around the room, where sure enough, everyone had a tiny little yellow flower tucked behind their ear. “Wait,” he said. “No, wait! I want a flower.”

“Too late,” Plaxum sighed. “You already ruined your chances with one overly-thought-out pickup line.” But she stuck a flower in his hair anyway.

There was a tiny  _ click _ , and they all turned to see Allura standing by the closed door, a smile still evident on her lips, but the rest of her face serious. “I’m glad everyone has a flower now,” she said. “But Plaxum and Shay aren’t here to distribute plant life. And Lance - happy birthday, by the way - we agreed, a little get together at your place later today?”

Actually, Lance had completely forgotten. “Of course,” he said graciously. “I am a magnanimous host, and will provide entertainment and refreshments.”

“You’re entertainment enough,” Pidge muttered.

Shay stuttered. “I’m afraid - I’m afraid the day might be ruined by the news we have to share.”

Allura frowned, and Shiro straightened, coming away from where he was casually leaning against the wall. Hunk put a gentle hand on Shay’s elbow.

“It’s alright,” he said. “You need to tell them.”

Shay looked to Plaxum, and she stepped forward.

“I was at the flower shop the other day,” she said. “About a week ago.” 

Allura was already copying it down into a paper notebook, leaning over her desk.

“Well - I was just returning from a delivery, and I parked the truck in the alley next to the building, and I was heading towards the storefront, and I saw a guy at the counter. He was talking to Florina. And um, the guy, he was…”

She clenched her jaw, tears in her eyes, Shay rubbing a hand along her spine. “Sweetie,” she said softly. “Take your time.”

Plaxum stared at the floor. “Lotor,” she said, and Pidge dropped their phone. “It was Lotor.”

Shiro could have been made of stone. Allura was staring at the notebook, underlining something over and over - Lance was staring at Plaxum, as she shook under Shay’s soothing touch. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out, her voice raw. “I’m sorry - I - I failed! It was - I - I was supposed to - ”

“Stop,” Shay said. “You didn’t fail. Not now, not ever. What happened was  _ not  _ your fault.”

Plaxum was hyperventilating, tears sliding down her face. “I - ”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Pidge said hoarsely, picking up their phone without even looking at it. They touched Plaxum’s hand. “You did everything right.”

“Are you sure it was Lotor?” Shiro asked, his voice hesitant. “It could have been - ”

“I’m sure,” Plaxum said. “Florina was telling me afterwards - about a man with long pale hair and burn marks on his face and hands. She said he introduced himself as - as L-”

“As Lotor,” Allura murmured.

“And she said, she said she just thought it was one of those crazy people that dress up as him just to freak people out. The Dead Galra Prince and whatever, and I thought, oh, it’s fine, but then she - ” Plaxum took a deep breath. “She said he asked for me specifically. She said he wanted to make a bouquet for someone that meant  _ welcome back _ .”

Silence.

“He’s toying with us.” Hunk spoke into the thick air. “He just wanted to - to let us know he’s alive. He’s teasing us because he can.”

Plaxum sobbed quietly into Shay’s jacket.

“Okay,” Allura finally said after a while. “Shiro, come with me - we’re going to go find some chairs. Everyone needs to be sitting for the conversation we’re about to have.”

“What conversation is that?” Hunk asked nervously.

Allura took a deep breath. “We need to talk about  _ that _ day.”

~

The chairs were all set up in a circle of seven, with an empty chair next to Lance, and another next to Pidge. Plaxum was leaning against Shay’s side. Her tears were dry, but every so often she shuddered, and Shay’s hand on hers tightened.

Lance stared at the empty space next to him. The card was inside his jacket pocket, so he took it out and twisted it between his fingers, letting his calloused fingers run over the tiny indentations left by the pen.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” Allura said softly, “but let’s just start from the beginning. We were given the mission in mid-February.”

_ “Kill Prince Lotor.” _

_ The three team Corporals - Lance, Shiro, and Allura - are sitting close together in front of Lt. Smythe’s desk, asked to come in for the next Voltron Squadron assignment - but they never could have expected anything this big, or important. For the first time since they’ve known him, Lt. Smythe’s voice is deadly serious.  _

_ Lance gapes. “Are you for real?” _

_ “The orders came from way above my pay grade,” Smythe says. “And I mean WAY above. So yes, I am for real.” _

_ He drops a massive file onto the desk in front of them. “The file on Prince Lotor. It’s a bit long, so you might want to split up the information among the squad.”  _

_ Allura takes it, and starts flipping through the pages. “Lieutenant, this is… massive. Why - ” _

_ “Word of Voltron’s ability in wartime and pristine mission record is spreading,” Smythe says. “General Iverson is  _ very _ impressed with the work you’ve done, so I’ve heard.” _

_ Shiro makes a face, but says nothing. Smythe catches it anyway and laughs. “Listen, Shirogane, between the four of us, I feel the exact same way about him, but he did give you this unbelievably important mission. He does trust you.” _

_ “Great,” Shiro says. He flexes his prosthetic. _

_ Allura looks up at Smythe. “So,” she says. “What’s the plan?” _

“There were three opportunities to kill or observe Prince Lotor,” Lance said. “The first was at a funeral for a general in the Galra army. We chose to observe there. Keith disguised himself as a Galra citizen - which is ironic, looking back on it now - and mingled with the crowd. I was up in a loft of the church.”

“I hacked the cameras,” Pidge said. “The rest of us watched from back home.”

“It was an opportunity to understand Prince Lotor at a personal level. We already knew what he could do in combat. He took out an entire platoon straight out of the Garrison by himself,” Allura shuddered. The Garrison was a Basic training camp in Colorado, and something about it produced the best soldiers. Everyone in Voltron Squadron had gone to Basic at the Garrison, so Lotor’s destruction of an entire platoon of soldiers from the Garrison had made the mission personal.

“Keith didn’t even interact with him,” Lance said. “We got out of there at a reasonable time and made our way back.”

_ One of Coran’s drivers picks them up, so Lance and Keith sit in the backseat, Keith’s head on Lance’s shoulder.  _

_ “So, how was mingling with the Galra elites?” Lance asks, absently rubbing his thumb over Keith’s knuckles. _

_ “Awful and boring,” Keith says. “You heard over comms. It was all just hate and wannabe genocidal maniacs and Glorify Future Emperor Zarkon and Praise His Holy Name and stupid shit like that. I never want to do that again.” _

_ Lance sighs and presses Keith’s hand to his mouth. “You know you might have to before this war’s over.” _

_ “Yeah, I do,” Keith mumbles. “I hate being part Galra, Lance. I hate it so much. I’m so - I’m so disgusted by everything I am.” _

_ Lance could argue it, could argue that the Galra blood isn’t the problem, it’s the society and the mindset of the Galra people, but he knows it won’t do any good from the multiple times he’s pushed the point before. Instead, he says, “You know I saw one of the Galra generals picking his nose during the ceremony.” _

_ Keith chokes and starts laughing. “Are you serious?” _

_ “I was nosing through the crowd and I saw this guy was digging for gold. And he had like, stars on his shoulder and everything, medals, pins, all that stuff.” _

_ “Blackmail material,” Keith says lightly and Lance rolls his eyes.  _

_ “Of course that’s what you think of,” he says, giving Keith a little shove, and Keith laughs again and his eyes are bright. _

“Lance, are you still with us?”

Lance jerked his head up, his eyesight clearing. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

Shiro put a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Don’t be,” he said, and Lance nodded, straightening his back and not crying. He tried not to crush the card in his fist.  _ Primrose - I can’t live without you. _

“The second opportunity we had was a bust,” Shay had been saying. “Bad intel.”

“It was a stadium,” Shiro said. “Lotor was supposed to lead a rally, but he wasn’t there.”

“I was in their system but Lotor wasn’t in the building,” Pidge said, leaning their elbows on their knees and rocking slowly from side to side. “I searched for him everywhere. We had it surrounded, and Lance was on the back doors, but no luck.”

“That was a disaster,” Lance said. “A  _ guard _ spotted me. Sun was out, and it just - lit me up.”

“We got out, but it was obvious why we were there,” Hunk said. “We were after Lotor.”

A heavy silence hung in the room.

“March 24th,” Pidge said into the stillness and it twisted and thickened the air, until Lance felt like he was choking. He rubbed his thumb over the writing on the card.

“Lotor was in Nuremberg to oversee the rebuilding of a POW camp, the one that I was held at,” Shiro stated blandly, his voice hoarse. “It was at the Frauenkirche, the Church of Our Lady.” He stared down at his prosthetic hand, curled into a fist and shaking. 

Allura murmured, “A beautiful church, centuries of history, destroyed and defiled. The Galra don’t care much for religion.” She reached over and held Shiro’s hand in hers, and the shaking stopped. 

“I destroyed it,” Shiro said.

“And you allowed hundreds of prisoners, along with yourself, to escape,” Allura told him, her voice soft, and Lance looked away.

Shiro cleared his throat. “We set off bombs in the Imperial Castle, just a few minutes away from the Frauenkirche, in an effort to lure him and his guards over there, and it worked.”

_ “Galaxy 3, you’re the bomb bitch,” Pidge says.  _

_ “ _ **_I’m the bomb bitch,_ ** _ ” Plaxum echoes. There’s a pause, and then a click, and then an entire outpost of the castle explodes into pieces, raining rubble down on them all, and the entire team ducks and covers their heads. Lance has eyes on Keith, Shiro, and Plaxum, who are closest to the blast, across the street where all the shops must once have been, hiding in a broken storefront. He himself is up in the tallest tower of the castle with Pidge, where he has a full 360 _ _ o  _ _  view of the city around him.  _

_ He switches to D channel, which is just his team. “Supernova team, check in. This is Supernova 1.” Hunk and Shay both check in and he switches back to A channel, which is the entire squad. “Supernova check.” _

_ “ _ **_Galaxy check,_ ** _ ” Allura says over comms. _

_ “ _ **_Nebula check_ ** _ ,” Shiro responds. _

_ Lance peers through his smoke and sees movement in the near distance. “Look lively,  _ amigos _. There’s movement to the south. Looks like the bombs worked.” _

_ “ _ **_Okay, Voltron Squadron,_ ** _ ” Lt. Smythe’s voice says loud and clear. “ _ **_You all know what to do. Supernova 2 and Galaxy 3, you’re in the castle. Nebulas 1 and 2, ex-storefront. Supernova 1 and Nebula 3, snipers in the castle tower. At even the SLIGHTEST hint that the tower is unstable, you get out of there as FAST as you can, do you copy?_ ** _ ” _

_ “Copy that, Lieutenant,” Pidge says. She sets up her sniper rifle. “My back already hurts up here.” _

_ “ _ **_Calm the fuck down, you’re like twelve,_ ** _ ” Matt says over comms. “ _ **_Lieutenant, you want me, Supernova 3, and Galaxy 1 on guard?_ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_I do, Sergeant,_ ** _ ” Lt. Smythe says. “ _ **_And listen up, all of you -- no funny self-sacrificial business, you hear me? I know some of you have a nasty habit._ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Wow, I wonder who he’s talking about,_ ** _ ” Keith snarks. _

_ “Oh, shut the f-” _

_ “ _ **_Can the chatter, now! They’re just about here!_ ** _ ” Allura shouts, and there’s gunshots. Lance swings his rifle around, peering through the sight.  _

_ “There, Pidge!” he shouts. “Get the drivers.” _

_ She aims and fires and a car drops lower. “Okay, a tire, not bad,” Lance grins, and she gives him a middle finger. _

_ One of the cars screeches to a halt and Prince Lotor himself steps out, a guard right behind him. Lance narrows his eyes. “I can get him right now.” _

_ “ _ **_Supernova 1, if you have the shot, take it._ ** _ ” _

_ Lance fires.  _

_ Prince Lotor stumbles back as the bullet hits him square in the chest. The guard shouts and others converge rapidly, looking around furiously as Lotor picks the bullet off of his chest. _

_ “FUCK!” Lance yells. “He’s wearing luxite armor, fuck, fuck, - headshot, always a headshot - ” He reloads and peers through at Lotor again, who looks at the bullet, around, and then up. His eyes fall on the tower as Lance shoots again, and he dives behind the car as the guards scramble. “Shit,” Lance swears. “He saw me, FUCK YOU PRINCE SHITHEAD --  _ Coño _ , this motherfucking --  _ Vete para el coño de tu MADRE! _ ” _

_ “I don’t know what that means, but I know it’s bad,” Pidge says. _

_ “ _ **_He knows where you are?_ ** _ ” Allura asks. _

_ “He’s getting back in his car,” Lance grouses, still taking shot after shot. Every one of them impacts the car. None of them make a difference. “I can’t even fucking make a shot through the fucking windshield.” _

_ “ _ **_Get out of there! If they’re coming for you, get -_ ** _ ” _

_ “No, let them come to us,” Lance says. “Supernova 2, Galaxy 3, where are you in the castle?” _

_ “ _ **_We’re in the guardroom outside the tower stairwell,_ ** _ ” Hunk says. “ _ **_We can hold them off._ ** _ ” Lance can hear the smile in his voice. “ _ **_I’ve got a big gun._ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_I’ve still got a ton of bombs left,_ ** _ ” Plaxum says. “ _ **_I can distribute them along the corridor and set them off when the time is right._ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Just be careful,_ ** _ ” Shiro warns. _

_ “ _ **_Let me do those bombs,_ ** _ ” Hunk says, faintly, and Lance shoots a guard from the tower, headshot. “ _ **_I’ve got the gun._ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_You and your gun,_ ** _ ” Plaxum laughs, and then, louder, “ _ **_Supernova 2 is setting the bombs._ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Fuck!_ ** _ ” Keith suddenly shouts, and a grunt from his end, and then a shocked, “ _ **_He fucking caught it._ ** _ ” _

_ Lance swivels to where Keith and Shiro are supposed to be hiding out, and he sees Lotor just over the edge of the castle, clenching something in his fist, just inches away from his face. He points a couple Galra in the direction of Keith and Shiro. Lance shoots them once Lotor’s back is turned.  _

_ “ _ **_You just gave away our fucking position! Keith, out back, go the back way around -_ ** _ ” Shiro sounds furious. _

_ “ _ **_They’re entering the castle now,_ ** _ ” Keith says, his voice shaking with rage. “ _ **_Lotor can catch knives in midair. Be on your guard._ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Copy, Nebula 2, I’m seeing the same thing_ ** _ ,” Shay responds. “ _ **_Should I follow after them?_ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Stand at the entrance and don’t let anyone else in or out,_ ** _ ” Lance says.  _

_ “ _ **_There’s a lot of them over here!_ ** _ ” Allura shouts, her voice sounding strained and panicked, and Lance’s heart drops to his toes. “ _ **_I could use a little help!_ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_I’ve got the same problem,_ ** _ ” Matt says. “ _ **_There are a lot of them and one of me._ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Galaxy 2, location,_ ** _ ” Pidge says. “ _ **_I can cover you from up here._ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Oh fuck, here they come,_ ** _ ” Hunk shouts, and tinny shots echo over the comms. _

_ “ _ **_I’m at your 6, Nebula 3,_ ** _ ” Matt says. _

_ “ _ **_Galaxy 1, I can cover you, but I can’t see you,_ ** _ ” Lance snaps. “ _ **_Where are you?_ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Nebula 2 and I can see Galaxy 1 from where we are,_ ** _ ” Shiro relays. “ _ **_Headed your way now._ ** _ ” _

_ Lance moves so he can see Keith and Shiro jump out of a shattered window. “Your five!” he shouts, and fires at the group of guards who see them. Shiro whirls and gets another with a headshot, and the last falls from one of Keith’s throwing knives. _

_ “ _ **_Thanks,_ ** _ ” Keith says, and Lance picks off another Galra soldier. _

_ “No problem,” he smiles.  _

_ “ _ **_Nebula 1, go ahead, I gotta get back to my knife,_ ** _ ” Keith is telling Shiro, but he’s interrupted by a horrifying scream. _

_ “ _ **_HUNK!_ ** _ ” Plaxum shouts. “ _ **_That was - Hunk -_ ** _ ” _

_ “Supernova 2, let me hear your voice,” Lance commands, watching Shay shoot another guard trying to leave the hallway. “Hunk, I need to hear your voice, NOW!” _

_ Nothing.  _

_ “I’m going down,” Pidge says, and Lance grabs her shoulder.  _

_ “No, you’re not,” he says. _

_ “You’re not my team leader.” _

_ “ _ **_I am,_ ** _ ” Shiro says, “ _ **_and you’re not going down._ ** _ ” _

_“Sergeant Garrett,” Lance snarls in his best leader voice, “_ _Talk_ _to_ _me_ _now._ _”_

_ “ _ **_Stomach - shot,_ ** _ ” Hunk bites out, and the tightening in Lance’s chest doesn’t ease up at all. _

_ “Supernova 3, you go in and get him out now. If you see a single Galra, take ‘em out. Let us know when you’re clear, and then Galaxy 3, light it up,” Lance commands _

_ Then Plaxum says two words that wreak havoc in Lance’s stomach. “ _ **_Prince Lotor._ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Holy shit,_ ** _ ” Keith says. _

_ “ _ **_Plaxum_ ** _ ,” Shay says, horrified, and Lance almost screams. _

_ “Get Hunk out! That’s an order!” he shouts, and Shay yells in frustration. Lance shoots two soldiers who try to get into the castle. _

_ “ _ **_You won’t make it out,_ ** _ ” Plaxum is saying, and Keith is enraged. _

_ “ _ **_WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!! JUST SHOOT HIM!_ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Clear,_ ** _ ” Shay snarls, and Lance sees her dragging Hunk away. _

_ “Galaxy 3, detonate NOW,” Lance snaps, and he grabs Pidge, “Hold onto me - ” and counts down, 3, 2, 1 -  _

_ An explosion rocks the tower and Lance and Pidge collapse to the floor. Keith is shouting Lance’s name and Matt is screaming.  _

_ “ _ **_... gun to your head,_ ** _ ” says a smooth voice. “ _ **_Don’t test me,_ ** **Plaxum** **_._ ** _ ” _

_ Oh, God. _

_ The comms are going crazy. Lance stands slowly, his head spinning, checking that Pidge is alright. _

_ “ _ **_Plaxum. PLAXUM!!_ ** _ ” Shay screams. “ _ **_Hunk, I --_ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Matt, where are you going?!_ ** _ ” Allura hollers, and Lance tries to peer through his sight but he must have hit his head because the sudden magnification makes him stagger away and vomit over the side of the tower. “ _ **_Come back, NOW!_ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Move, move, move -_ ** _ ” Shiro mutters, and Lance drapes himself off the edge of the tower, trying to wipe his mouth, and watches out as Shiro and Keith run along a wall that was no longer, Shiro shooting over it at Galra troops. “ _ **_Nebula 3, where are you?_ ** _ ” _

_ Pidge doesn’t answer the question from her commanding officer. Instead, she says, “ _ **_Matt, don’t do this!_ ** _ ” and Lance spins to see where she’s looking and watches Matt run into the tunnel. “ _ **_LEAVE THIS CASTLE IMMEDIATELY!_ ** _ ” _

_“_ ** _I WON’T LEAVE!_** _”_ _Matt shouts. “_ ** _Plaxum is TRAPPED in there with FUCKING LOTOR and you want me to--_** _”_

_ “ _ **_There’s Galra soldiers everywhere, Sergeant,_ ** _ ” Lieutenant Smythe snaps furiously. “ _ **_Galaxy 2, evacuate IMMEDIATELY. That’s an ORDER._ ** _ ” _

_ Suddenly Plaxum is screaming. “ _ **_GET DOWN FROM THE TOWER! LANCE! PIDGE! GET DOWN FROM THE TOWER! GRENADE IN TEN--_ ** _ ” _

_ “FUCK!” Lance says, and grabs Pidge, wrenching her away from the wall as they trip down the stairs.  _

_ “Matt, don’t do this!” Pidge screams. “DON’T YOU DARE! You can’t make it in time!” _

_ “ _ **_Fucking WATCH me!_ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Nebula 3, location IMMEDIATELY!_ ** _ ” _

_ “With Supernova 1, coming down the tower stairs - ” Pidge starts, but stops as she and Lance skid to a halt; the stairs have been half blown off and there’s a massive hole in the wall. Without a further thought, Lance pushes Pidge into the tree below them and then jumps after her. _

_ “ _ **_Galaxy 2, stand down! Matt, I’m ordering you to -_ ** _ ” _

_ The explosion rocks the earth. Lance feels the heat searing his back through the Kevlar and Pidge is screaming her brother’s name, and the tower explodes behind him and brick and mortar rain down on him and Pidge, and Shay says, “ _ **_Plaxum,_ ** _ ” and Lance is almost crying. _

_ The smoke clears, slowly, and the gunfire has ceased. _

_ Lance helps Pidge down from the tree and takes a deep breath. “This is Supernova 1. Voltron Squadron, check in. Supernova, Nebula, Galaxy.” _

_ “ _ **_S-Supernova 2, check-AH-checking in_ ** _ ” Hunk grits out, and Shay follows. “ _ **_Supernova 3, checking in._ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Nebula 1, checking in_ ** _ ,” Shiro says. _

_ “ _ **_Nebula 2, checking in_ ** _ ,” Keith says, and Lance leans back against the tree, relief hitting him like a punch to the sternum. _

_ “Nebula 3, checking in,” Pidge croaks, and she stands next to Lance and holds his hand. “Matt.” _

_ Allura sounds like she’s sobbing. “ _ **_Galaxy 1, checking in._ ** _ ” _

_ Nothing. _

_ “ _ **_Galaxy 2. Galaxy 3. Matt. Plaxum. Do you copy,_ ** _ ” Allura says helplessly. “ _ **_Sergeants._ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Nebula 2, what do you see?_ ** _ ” Shiro asks, and Lance pulls away from the tree, his eyes scanning over the rubble to see Keith running towards something in the middle. _

_ “ _ **_I’ll- tell you when I’m there,_ ** _ ” Keith chokes, and Pidge stumbles to her knees, but gets up and starts running towards him. Lance can barely move, but he forces himself to take one step forward, and then another, and another. _

_ “ _ **_Matt,_ ** _ ” Keith says, and he sounds horrified, and Pidge’s scream echoes across the wasteland of rubble. _

_ Something chokes over comms, and Lance realizes it’s Matt. “ _ **_Is… Plaxum…_ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_I don’t -_ ** _ ” Keith breathes. “ _ **_I don’t -_ ** _ ” _

_ Pidge drops to her knees, Lance sees it, and now he’s running in earnest, tripping over the remains of the castle in his haste to get there. “ _ **_Matt,_ ** _ ” she says, over and over again. _

_ A cough. “ _ **_Katie._ ** _ ” _

_ The rest is silence.  _

_ Lance stands a few feet away, watching in mute shock as Keith reaches over and closes Matt’s eyes. Pidge reaches for his wrist, to find a pulse, and then his neck, and then she leans her head on his chest. “No,” she says stubbornly, shaking her head. “No, no, nope, no, nonono, sorry Matt, but you’re not - you’re not - ” She chokes on the dust, coughing, and she shakes him. “You’re not! You can’t - you can’t be - ” _

_ Lance kneels next to Keith, who’s staring at Matt’s burnt, grotesque features with a blank look of shock on his face. “Pidge,” Lance says. _

_ “NO!” Pidge screams, guttural and raw and broken. She glares up at Lance, her features mutated into something ugly and animal, all of her usual protective shields and defenses gone. “You can’t say it. You can’t say it.” Her breath shudders and stutters, and Lance is at a loss for words. “He’s not.”  _

_ “Pidge,” Lance says helplessly, and Keith gasps for breath, tears making streaks through the grime on his face. _

Pidge was staring at the ceiling, and Lance instinctively reached out a for hand to hold but there was nothing there. The card fluttered to the ground and he picked it up before anyone could see it.

“I found you,” Allura said to Plaxum, her voice raw. “And you were still alive.”

“Matt got to me before the grenade blew,” Plaxum said, “and he grabbed me and - and turned so that he would get the brunt of the explosion.” 

Pidge blurted out “FUCK” before they buried their head in their hands and started to cry. 

“It was my grenade,” Plaxum said. “I fucking - I just pulled the pin and hit him and dropped the grenade and started running. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I just - ”

“Who  _ knows _ what Lotor would have done to you had you not thrown that grenade,” Shiro said. “You did the right thing.”

“Not soon enough,” Plaxum bleated, and buried her face in Shay’s shoulder. 

Lance’s heart hurt.

They didn’t get much accomplished after that. Going back to the day Matt died took everything out of them, even five years later, and nobody was in the mood for battle planning or strategizing. Allura caught up with Lance afterwards, pulling him back by the tips of her fingers.

“I’m sorry for basically ruining your birthday, Lance,” she said softly. “I know nobody wants to relive the death of one of their friends on the big day.”

“Well, we all have bad birthdays sometimes,” Lance answered honestly. “It’s what makes the good ones great.” He smiled and clapped her on the shoulder. “We’re all still on for my place tonight, though. I’m not letting everyone else miss out on the absolute BANGER that is my birthday.”

Allura laughed and gave him a quick hug. She smelled like a light breeze and the springtime and Lance held her there for longer than he meant to. When she pulled back, her eyes were wet with tears.

“Five o’clock,” she nodded quickly. “I’ll let everyone know.”

Lance spent the rest of the day doing menial work with Pidge. They’d hand him little pieces to put together and it kept his hands busy since he had very little left to do.

At 3:30 he stood and stretched. “Well, Pidge. My time is up. I have to go home and prepare for the arrival of the plebeians to the palace.”

“Your apartment is hardly a palace, Lance,” Pidge said. “And - I don’t know if I’ll come, I don’t feel great after - ”

“Pidge, no!” Lance protested, kneeling down and grasping their face between his hands. “You have to come! It’s my birthday. It’ll cheer you up, promise. I’ll bake something, and I  _ know _ I’m not as good as Hunk, but I’m not bad! What would you like?”

Pidge shrugged. “A bear claw might convince me to come.”

Lance clapped his hands together. “Birthday bear claws! I love it. See you at five, Pidge.”

After a chaotic evil trip to the grocery store, when Lance found himself lugging his grocery bags up his stairs he felt something snap. All he could do was turn and watch as the plastic bag that held the jug of milk shredded itself into pieces - 

“Oopsy! I gotcha!”

His neighbor was a kind woman named Yvonne in her late fifties who had only moved in a few months ago. (She made a mean casserole.) And somehow, she still had the reflexes to catch a jug of milk as it fell out of the bag. “Oh God,” Lance laughed, taking it from her. “Thanks so much.”

“Not a problem,” Yvonne smiled. “Oh, Alejandro - there was a flower delivery for you a little while ago. I told the boy to set it right outside your door.” Her smile turned smirk-like

“What? Oh! Who, uh - ” Lance stuttered, almost forgetting that he owned this apartment under a false name and juggling the milk. “Who was the boy?”

“Oh, just a delivery shop employee, I think,” Yvonne said. “Nice young man, bit quiet. I just pointed him in the direction of your door.” 

“Thanks, Yvonne. You’re a dear,” Lance said, winking at her and hurrying off to his door. 

Sure enough, just on the inside of the single-lock door, there was a simple bouquet of blue flowers with a card attached.

What’s one half without the other?   
Happy birthday, Lance. I love you.

_ Love-in-a-mist - the “chains” which  _ _   
_ _ bind 2 people (weird but whatever the  _ _   
_ _ flower’s cool) _ _   
_ __ Forget-me-not - true love

Lance stared for a very long time at  _ true love _ written in Keith’s handwriting before he switched his focus to the bouquet. A group of three identical spiky blue monstrosities stole the show as the centerpiece, and they were surrounded by bunches of delicate, light blue five-petaled forget-me-nots. And finally, for a moment, Lance locked his front door and took a minute to stop and smell the flowers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Good morning, Agent K. You have an urgent message from General Ezor.”_
> 
> _“Relay urgent message,” K grumbled, looking over at the computer._
> 
> _“Agent K, Emperor Zarkon is going to speak with you today at 1500 hours. Be at the Capitol building at 1445. This is not a request.”_
> 
> _“Cool,” K said. “Current time.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah i'm a day late and i'm sorry!!! whatever, we're here now, and this shorter chapter sort of makes up for last week's absolute fucking monstrosity. 
> 
> trigger warning for gore in a dream sequence, PTSD, death in a dream sequence.
> 
> shout out to my beta reader, @ambitiousskychild!! much love to you and all your support <3
> 
> next update will be on the 19th.

**** Agent K did not  _ fucking _ sign up for this.

Five minutes ago, his world was normal. Zethrid had asked for his help in training the new recruits and there was Klaizap Arus, with his big eyes looking up to K and K went over to the kid and kicked his ass. But gently. And then Zethrid was waving his phone at him with an “Agent, you’ve got a call from Ezor.”

K sighed and took it from her. “Agent K.”

“Hiiiiii, Agent!” Ezor said, bubbly as ever, over the phone. “Can you come up to my office as quickly as you can? There’s someone I’d like you to meet!”

“Okay,” K said, and turned it off, looking over at Zethrid in confusion. “Thought I’d already met everyone in this country.”

“There’s always someone else,” Zethrid said. “Thanks for your help, man.”

“Anything for my commanding officer,” K answered, and walked out. The trek to Ezor’s office from the gym was a long one, and by the time he got there, he was sweating. 

He knocked on Ezor’s office door, and she called from inside, “Come in, Agent!”

He pushed it gently open, began to open his mouth to ask Ezor what was going on, and his eyes fell on the man in one of her comfortable visitor’s chairs.

The man shook long, smooth white hair down his back and stood in one fluid motion, all grace and long limbs and snakebite smiles. “Sergeant Keith Kogane,” the Dead Prince Lotor said, smiling. “It’s good to meet you again.”

K saluted and ignored how his heart stopped when that name and title fell from Lotor’s mouth. “You as well, sir. Welcome back from the dead.”

A smile flitted across half of Lotor’s thin mouth; the other half of his face was disfigured, ugly pink burns scars falling all down the side of his cheek and neck. “But if your name is famous, do you ever truly die?”

K genuinely wished they’d killed him on the first try, just to be done with it. Headshot. Maybe a stab wound for kicks.

“Have a seat, Sergeant,” Lotor said, gesturing to one of Ezor’s chairs. K glanced at her for permission; when she nodded, he took a seat.

“I heard of your renunciation of the Voltron Alliance,” Lotor said, steepling his fingers in front of him. He nodded solemnly. “Very,  _ very _ brave what you did, returning to the place where you belong. However, Sergeant Kogane… when we first met, you’ll forgive me for saying, but you seemed  _ very _ dedicated to the cause.” He leaned forward and smiled, and his incisors were unnaturally sharp. “Tell me, what changed your mind?”

“Did I want to be on the side of the guys that had lost, or on the side with the guys that could catch knives in midair?” K said.

Lotor began to laugh, but his eyes never changed. “Ha ha ha ha ha!”

K glanced at Ezor. She was smiling professionally. Her eyes craved death.

“ _ Keith _ ,” Lotor said, putting a hand on K’s shoulder that he itched to brush off, “you’re just too funny.” He stopped laughing like someone had hit his PAUSE button. “In all seriousness, Agent K, your notoriety is growing. General Zethrid informed me that one of the new recruits formed an attachment to you before he met you. That he  _ joined  _ because of you.” He leaned forward. “Emperor Zarkon himself has heard of you.”

Well, shit.

“He wants to be the one to assign you missions,” Lotor said. “I am no  _ messenger _ , but I wanted to truly meet you, as the person you were meant to be and not on opposite sides of the battlefield, so I delivered his message.” He looked at Ezor. “Of course,  _ you _ will still command Agent K and oversee all his missions, but the orders will come from the top.” He turned back to K. “And from me.”

“Sir,” K acknowledged. He glanced at Ezor but her face revealed nothing.

Lotor didn’t miss it. “Your loyalty is impressive.” He paused. “Tell me, Agent K. Aside from jokes about knives and sarcastic deflection, why  _ did  _ you leave the Voltron Alliance? Be serious this time.”

K’s face remained completely impassive. “Thought I’d be able to throw more knives here.”

“Open up, Kogane,” Lotor said serenely, leaning back. “I want to hear it all.”

Ezor raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ve actually never heard this story,” she said, and then grinned. “Then again, I don’t spend much time getting to know my agents as much as I get to know - ”

“Yes, yes, Ezor,” Lotor blurted out hastily, cutting her off. “You and Acxa have to have loving, kinky sex every three hours or you’ll combust.”

K almost laughed.

Lotor flipped his hair fabulously over his shoulder, regaining his composure as he turned his intense gaze on K. “Now, Agent K. Tell me truthfully. Why are you here?”

K struggled for a moment. “My mother,” he finally bit out. “My mother. Krolia Kim.”

Lotor sat straighter. “Well. Your mother. I expected something more - ”

“Don’t be sexist,” K said.

“I wasn’t going to be,” Lotor said indignantly.

“She found me, and she told me that I had to join her. That we could finally be together. And at first I didn’t believe her and didn’t want to listen to her, but - the more she told me, the more I had to face my motivations for where I was in Voltron. And if I really wanted to be there.” He looked at Lotor. “My mother.”

“You… truly care for her,” Lotor said slowly.

“I didn’t exactly want to,” K responded. “She left me with my father when I was a child. I wanted to hate her, but - she was right.”

Lotor stood, and K stood too, out of respect. Behind her desk, Ezor was on her feet. “You’ve given me much to consider, Agent,” he said. “You’ll be hearing from me before the week is over.” He nodded to Ezor. “General.”

“Prince Lotor,” she saluted.

Lotor gave K one last, searching look, and strode away. The door clicked shut behind him, and Ezor sank back into her chair. “That’s so sweet of you, Agent K,” she said finally, her voice its normal brand of pink & peppy. “You came to the light side for your mother! I didn’t know that!”

K shrugged. “Do you have anything for me? A mission? Anything?”

Ezor spread her hands. “I would if I could, Agent, but you heard the prince. All your missions come from  _ the top _ now.”

“But I take orders from you - ” K began, and Ezor reached across and patted his shoulder.

“It’s a sweet gesture, K, but it’s useless,” she said. “If Emperor Zarkon says that he’s the one giving you orders, he’s the one giving the orders.” She waved him away, picking up her phone. “Now, shoo. Go do something boring, like lift weights, or have sex with a man. I need to make a call.”

~

_ Keith likes training in the camp gym at two in the morning. Soldiers sleep like the dead (because they’ll soon be dead) so Keith doesn’t sleep. Lance has been staying up later and later too, just so he can irritate the living shit out of Keith. _

_ Voltron squadron got lucky. They got assigned to a base that had a practice bot. Keith likes to go up against it when it has a gun and he has a knife. Maybe that’s unhealthy. Whatever. _

_ The bot gets in a lucky hit, and Keith goes flying across the room. When he shakes his head clear and looks up, the bot is marching towards him with a scythe, and then it splits into two, and then four, and then eight, all marching towards him with their scythes held in front of them. They split again, and again, until there is a row of scythe bots marching towards him but they aren’t getting any closer. Keith lies his head down and waits for the inevitable end- _

_ “End session!” _

_ That’s a surprise. _

_ Keith looks up to see Hunk standing above him, with his arms on his waist. He has purple eyes and looks like Keith, but Keith knows it’s Hunk anyways. _

_ “Are you okay?” he asks, and sits down next to Keith. Keith sits up. _

_ “Yes,” he says. “Who are you?” _

_ “Man, you can’t keeping doing this,” Hunk says. “Like, I know you’re an insomniac and all, but you keep disappearing in the middle of the night and it’s stressing us out. Shiro’s worried about you.” _

_ “Shiro’s dead,” Keith says. _

_ “ _ Yeah _ we notice!” Hunk protests. “You think any of us are normal soldiers, man? We all hear you leave. Lance has been staying up to try to get you to stay, and you know how much he values his beauty rest.” _

_ “I love Lance,” Keith says. _

_ “Listen, try to get some sleep, okay?” Hunk grins wryly. “I’ll even sing you a lullaby if you need me to.” _

_ “I know you will,” Keith says, taking Hunk’s hand. “You do.” Keith is holding Hunk’s hand in his, but it doesn’t move. _

_ Hunk’s face turns serious. “Are you joking? You- you’d actually let me?” _

_ A Galra soldier bursts through the wall. Keith gets up and stabs him. Blood spills out of his neck and all over his hands. He walks back to Hunk and sits down. _

_ “No, of course only when everyone’s asleep,” Hunk nods seriously. “Man, the only person I ever sang to sleep was Lance when we were in Basic!” _

_ The Galra soldiers keep coming through the wall. Keith shoots them, because he has a gun. No, he doesn’t have a gun, so he uses his throwing knives instead. The bodies are piling up and the room is filling with blood. _

_ “I’m not gonna make fun of you,” Hunk says, and all Keith knows is that he has to protect this man. “I promise.” _

_ Keith misses. Now the Galra soldier stands next to him, so Keith stabs his kneecaps out. Hunk moves too suddenly by his side; Keith grabs his luxite knife and slashes him across the throat. _

_ Hunk stands and holds out a hand for Keith, blood gushing from his neck. He smiles, and all of his teeth are stained red. “Come on, let’s go home.” His skin is graying, and blood dribbles from his lips. Keith stares up at him as the Galra soldiers just keep coming, surrounding them, and Hunk is still smiling. _

Agent K woke up to an urgent beeping coming from his computer. He rolled out of bed and turned it on.

“ Good morning, Agent K. You have an urgent message from General Ezor. ”

“Relay urgent message,” K grumbled.

“ Agent K, Emperor Zarkon is going to speak with you today at 1500 hours. Be at the Capitol building at 1445. This is not a request. ”

“Cool,” K said. “Current time.”

“ 0732. ”

“Thanks,” K said.

“ You’re welcome. ”

K raised an eyebrow at it and dropped to the mat on his floor to start his morning calisthenics.

He tried not to think about meeting Emperor Zarkon.

-

He was at the Capitol building at 1443, Ezor meeting him at the door. They barely had to show their IDs to the security guard as she swept him in.

“A meeting with the Emperor himself!” she said as they crossed the lobby to a large, open doorway placed directly in the center. “I bet you’re going to start getting really good missions from here on out. I haven’t heard anything official yet but there are rumors about a prison break going around.”

“And I’ve heard rumors about kidnapping Allura Altea and Balmera,” K said. Ezor stopped in front of a janitor’s closet, looking either way down the hallway before turning a key in the lock and opening the door to a tight spiral staircase. “I don’t believe everything I hear.”

Ezor raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be such a buzzkill, Agent K. We need everyone’s help to spread rumors. It’s a duty of the everyday person and the extraordinary person.” Her voice echoed up the staircase as she climbed.

“And for those in the middle?” K asked.

“Stop fishing for compliments,” Ezor said. “That’s an order.”

“Yes, General,” K responded, thickening his voice with fake gravitas.

Ezor laughed and swiped her ID at the top of the stairs. “Agent K, it’s like you’ve finally woken up on the right side of the bed! I love this sudden dry humor. Where’s it coming from?”

“I’m facing my own mortality,” K said, gesturing vaguely to where he assumed Zarkon was. “I had to re-evaluate my life.”

Ezor led him up another flight of stairs. “Well, something had to give, eventually. I should invite you to the World Galratia Day party that Acxa and I have every year.”

World Galratia Day was the day that the Galra Empire had unified the countries of the world under its one, common flag. It was held every year on September 8.

“I’m not much fun at parties,” K said at Ezor opened a thick steel door at the top of the stairs into a large, open vestibule.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ezor said. “Just bring that sense of humor and you’ll be fine.” She turned and gazed at the large pair of ornate wooden doors in front of them, painted in beautiful purple and black. “Emperor Zarkon’s throne room is just behind that doorway. Don’t do anything stupid. Bow a lot. Got it?”

K squared his shoulders. “Yes.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Ezor said. “You’ll be fine.” She clapped a hand on his shoulder and opened the door to the staircase. “Enter at 1500. Don’t walk in early, and d _ efinitely _ don’t walk in late, got it?”

K nodded, and she left.

He checked his phone. It was 1451. He squared his feet and regulated his breathing, clearing his mind. He could hear faint sounds of speaking coming from the throne room, but nothing distinct; he let it wash over him.

At 1458 a group of people with bars on their shoulders exited the throne room, and a few of them eyed K as they passed. He kept his eyes forward and imagined tripping one of them.

“ _ Enter _ ,” boomed a voice from inside, and K stepped into the throne room, the doors thundering shut behind him.

It was huge, open, airy. A smooth white marble floor spread out in front of K, purple light filtering through the huge stained-glass rose window that was set into the wall at the opposite end. A cold gray shine fell onto the floor through the floor-to-ceiling windows that stood to K’s right; and then on a raised dais at the end of the throne room, in a magnificently carved, shining dark luxite throne, was Emperor Antiochus Zarkon.

He sat upright, his feet planted on the floor, his square jaw set in his face. In his right hand he held a luxite staff. His pure purple eyes stared K down, and K felt wide open. On display.

K bowed. “Emperor Zarkon.”

Zarkon hit his staff on the floor. “Rise.”

K stood straight.

“Come forward, and look in my eyes,” Zarkon commanded, and K’s feet obeyed, marching him forward to stand at the base of the steps. Zarkon stood, his huge frame blocking the stained-glass window above him. “Who are you?”

“Agent K, my - ” K started, but Zarkon slammed his staff on the floor again, and K stopped talking.

“I do not need a name,” he said. “Who are you?”

K gave it a moment of thought. “I am returned to my people, sir,” he said, finally.

Zarkon sat and pondered. “Are you loyal?”

“When the cause is just, sir.” K said.

“And what, pray tell, is that just cause?” Zarkon asked, sitting forward and narrowing his eyes. K met them dead on.  

“The perpetuation of the great Galra Empire,” K said. “The only place I truly belong.”

Zarkon leaned back and loosened his grip on the staff. “Agent Keith Kogane.”

What was up with the royal family and using his actual name? “My emperor.”

“Your name is rumors within our people. They speak of you in terms of hope and reverence; even a man born to a family outside of our great country, a man raised to fight for his oppressors his whole life, cannot resist the call of his natural superiority over others.” Zarkon’s gaze felt like fire. K’s stomach was churning, but he held firmly to his mask of passive formality and kept his stance straight.

Zarkon nodded. “You know your place well. Do you think you have changed the course of this empire?”

K considered it. “I have changed the course of lives.”

“That is not an appropriate answer.”

K looked away, then. “No, sir.”

“Very good, Agent K,” Zarkon said, and K looked back at him with the use of his letter. “You truly know your place. How insignificant you have been.”

K blinked a few times. He hadn’t known what to expect from this meeting, but he was sure it wasn’t this.

“Yet that is changing. You are becoming a symbol for the Galra Empire, Agent. I am sure my son informed you that I will be sending you on more important – and dangerous – missions from now on.”

K nodded. “He did, sir.”

“I have a mission for you, Agent K. It will change the course of this empire, and finish this war that the Voltron Alliance is so desperately trying to keep fighting.”

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Lance. You have to know that that’s what you’re keeping in. All of that anger, all of that love, all of that sadness.” Coran tapped Lance’s heart with a finger. “You’re keeping all of that inside here. And you’re not talking to anyone about it. You’re a grenade, and I didn’t even remove the pin.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, yeah. it's been a while. a lot has happened. but i promise i am not giving up on this fic. i will keep posting, i promise. thank u so much to everyone who's read it, given it kudos, or commented. it means the world to me & those of u who do are really what keeps me going.
> 
> anyway!! chapter six!!! SPOILERS FOR TW: it starts off with an nsfw scene!!!! be forewarned! there are also non graphic death descriptions & mentioned of death.
> 
> HUGE thank-you to ambitiousskychild for beta reading once again!!! much love to you <3
> 
> [my tumblr](https://paladumb.tumblr.com/)

****_ Keith is sitting on his desk, crumpling papers and folders that are probably really important, but Lance doesn’t think he really cares, because Keith’s shirt is half off and he’s smiling at Lance in that private way he has that makes Lance feel like he’s the center of the entire world. (Which, in fact, he is. But that’s not the point.) _

_ Because currently, Lance is standing shirtless between Keith’s spread knees and he tugs him forward and kisses him, hot and heavy, and Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s neck and kisses him back. He makes a little noise into Lance’s mouth, one that only comes out around Lance - and when Keith is really, really desperate. _

_ Lance grins, and Keith clamps his warm, powerful thighs around Lance’s waist, pulling him forward. Lance trips, planting his hand on the desk. “You’re a dick,” he says, now eye-level with Keith’s pecs. _

_ “Mm-hmm, and you really hate it,” Keith mumbles as Lance pushes Keith’s shirt the rest of the way off and starts to lavish his chest with an attention. Keith leans back slightly on the desk and watches it happen, running a hand through Lance’s thick hair and stroking the side of his head. Lance loves the affection - tilts his head into Keith’s hand as he licks towards the top of his slacks, and Keith’s thighs start trembling around him.  _

_ Lance looks up at him, mouth open slightly from where he’s watched Lance with lidded eyes, and gives him a wicked smirk that he’s  _ well _ aware turns Keith on. And sure enough, as if Keith wasn’t hard before, Lance is in a position so that he can feel the growing tent in Keith’s trousers start to tickle his throat. He leans down and places tiny butterfly kisses right at the place where Keith’s skin disappears under fabric and Keith lets out a choked breath above him that sounds vaguely like his name. _

_ Lance takes his time unbuttoning Keith’s pants, pressing hot little kitten licks all over his abs - his fucking abs, Keith’s fucking abs, Lance is just about ready to write an ode to Keith’s fucking abs - and he hooks his fingers slowly into the belt loops at his hips, and then someone knocks at the door and Allura’s voice says, “Keith, I have some reports for you,” and Keith freezes. _

_ Dammit. They were just getting somewhere, too. _

_ Keith jerks into action. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” He knocks a mug of pencils off of his desk, struggling to get into a position where he can get up and start re-doing his clothing. Lance, still holding on to him, knows he’s not being helpful - he can barely hold in his laughter - and Keith sends him a scathing glare. “It’s not fucking funny, Lance.” _

_ “It’s kinda funny,” Lance says. _

_ “Keith, are you in there?” Allura’s confused voice sounds from the door and Keith is finally standing, buttoning his pants up as Lance falls backwards, lounging in the desk chair, his hair a mess and his shirt halfway across the room. _

_ “Honey, she’s an adult, she can handle it,” Lance says, watching Keith scramble. _

_ “ _ **Absolutely fucking not** **_,_ ** _ ” Keith says, glaring, and Lance sighs. _

_ “Come in, Allura,” he calls, and Keith’s eyes go wide and he slaps a hand over Lance’s mouth. _

_ “DO NOT COME THE FUCK IN, ALLURA.” _

_ “Bloody fucking hell,” Allura groans from the door. _

_ “Babe, she knows exactly what’s going on right now,” Lance reasons as he gets hit in the face with his button-down.  _

_ “Put that on,” Keith says. _

_ Lance stares at the ceiling. “Where do I get off on being in love with such a prude?” _

_ Keith is buttoning his shirt, but he hasn’t matched up the buttons correctly so one side of his collar is higher than the other. “ _ I _ just don’t have an  _ exhibitionist kink _ , Lance, there’s a fucking diff- ONE SECOND ALLURA!” he shouts as Allura knocks again. _

_ “You were into it,” Lance says, nodding at the messy desk, which is the kind of “messy” desks can only achieve if someone was sitting on top of them. He’s putting his shirt back on, but there’s really no point in buttoning it. _

_ Keith flounders. “Lance - I - You - That’s not the point!” He looms above his desk chair, his hands on his hips. “Get out.”  _

_ “I may kick the door in,” Allura says. _

_ “I love you,” Lance says, standing up, directly into Keith’s personal space. _

_ Keith softens visibly, his purple eyes warm. “You’re the worst,” he says, but he leans in for a tiny peck. “I love you too.” _

_ “HONESTLY,” Allura snaps, slamming her fist once against the door. It’s an ominous sound. _

_ Lance saunters off, his unbuttoned shirt flapping as he walks, and opens the door to smile brightly at Allura. “Good morning, Allura.” _

_ Allura enters, her blue eyes glaring. “It’s four in the afternoon, Lance. Put some fucking clothes on.” _

_ “Sure,” Lance says, rounding the corner out of the doorway. Then he backtracks, and just to be a piece of shit to the love of his life, calls back into the office, “Keith, you buttoned your shirt wrong.” _

_ Keith swears something furiously that Lance doesn’t hear as Allura closes the door behind him.  _

Lance blinked at the little label outside the office.  _ Nyma Chabert _ , and then under her name,  _ 42 _ . The meaning of life.

He was standing in a long corridor of offices that he knew all too well from moments that felt like a lifetime ago. The walls were beige, and the offices were small with bad circulation. And yet - 

“Lance, do you need something?”

The door to the office was open, and inside, Nyma’s purple eyes were wide, questioning. Lance shook his head. “No, sorry, just - ”

“I’m sorry,” Nyma said softly. “I know I’m in his office.”

Lance stood frozen in the doorway as she stood. 

“It doesn’t seem like a fair trade,” she mumbled. “And I know that no one here trusts me.”

Nyma had Galra ancestry as well, and had been born and raised in Galratia, but she had immigrated from her country when the war started, pledging to fight alongside the Voltron Alliance. It was a decision that many members of the army had met with derision and skepticism, but she had proved herself time and time again. Lance specifically remembered a time she’d stolen the schematics of the GIO from a Galra-affiliated military vessel. Right off the captain’s desk. Allura had been thrilled, and promoted her on the spot.

“No,” Lance protested, “no, you’ve done so much here - you  _ know _ we trust you, right?”

Nyma shook her head. “Rolo never told me he was a spy. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone suspects me from now on.”

It gave Lance whiplash. “Rolo - like your -  _ what _ ?”

Nyma blinked at him. “Oh! I - I thought you would have known. Lance, I walked into our apartment two days ago and he was - ” She stared at the wall, her jaw clenched. “He was dead on the couch. And his laptop was open to - ”

“Oh my God,” Lance said, rushing in to sit in one of the chairs in front of her desk. “Nyma, I’m - ”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Nyma snapped, glaring at him. “We  _ lived  _ together. I loved him like a  _ brother _ , I should have caught it. I should have seen what he was doing, but I just - I trusted him. And he  _ betrayed  _ us.”

Lance put his hand on hers and met her eyes. “Please, Nyma. I understand.”

She gazed at him for a few moments, and then wiped at her eyes. “I know you do.”

Lance took his hand away. “Have you - have you talked to anyone about it?”

Nyma shot him a scathing look. 

“I’m serious,” Lance said. “We have actual, real-life counselors here. That you can vent to and they’ll listen.”

Nyma shrugged. “I didn’t really think about it. I have to - I have work to do.”

Lance tapped her desk impatiently. “Nyma. It’s important that you talk to someone about those feelings. Even if it’s not a counselor. You know that any of the paladins will listen to you, right? All of us know what you’re feeling right now.”

“The paladins?” Nyma asked skeptically.

“The paladins of the Voltron Alliance!” Lance protested. “The nickname that formed for the five of us that stayed here? And moved under Allura’s command after the war?”

Nyma stared at him with one thick eyebrow raised.

“It was me, Hunk, Pidge, Shiro, and - .” Lance paused. “Well, it’s a good name and we still use it.”

She laughed, and it was a genuine laugh, too, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Cute.”

Lance leaned back and smiled at her. “See? Talking to even one person has helped. You’re laughing. Although I do take extra-special credit for that, seeing as I’m  _ awesome _ and anyone who talks to me automatically feels better about themselves.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Nyma said, but there was a soft smile resting on her face. “Thank you, Lance.”

He jumped out of his seat. “ _ No hay problema _ ! I’m always hanging around this stupid place, so I guess I’ll bump into you soon!”

Nyma waved to him as he exited, and as soon as he was out of sight he let the smile drop from his face. 

Rolo Beeza was a spy for the Galra. Well, at least now they knew who had been the one to betray the information about the meeting with Sam Holt.

He dialed Allura’s number and waited.

“ _ Lance. Is there something wrong? _ ”

“I just got smacked in the face with some sick new beats,” Lance said. “We should listen to it tonight as a group.”

“ _ I’ll see whose place is available,”  _ Allura answered immediately. “ _ Sounds like a good time _ .”

“Thanks,” Lance said. “Bring your tablet. I think you’re going to enjoy it.” He hung up, still caught up in reminiscing. When they had first started working out of the Pentagon after the war, they’d needed to come up with codes for when they discussed VA happenings; Hunk’s idea to refer to intel as “music” had been a genius move, and Lance still stuck by it today.

They met at Coran’s house at the end of the day; he had recently just finished redesigning his security systems and wanted to have people over to make sure they worked.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Pidge was saying as Lance walked in that evening. “All of us here, and your finicky security? Just use - ”

“Pidge, if you’re going to say  _ Just use mine _ I’ll have you doing pushups for three hours like you were back in Basic,” Coran snarked. “No, actually - you’re going to  _ WISH  _ you were back in Basic with the amount of pushups you’ll be doing.”

Pidge shot Lance a significant look. “I won’t say I told you so when it happens,” they muttered under their breath. Lance winced and covered his ears -  _ 3, 2, 1... _

Coran whirled on them. “ _ ALRIGHT, SERGEANT -  _ ”

“Coran!” Allura called, amusement in her voice, Pidge already halfway to the ground. “You’re not Pidge’s commanding officer anymore. I am. Pidge, get off the floor and join us.”

_ Us _ consisted of Allura, Hunk, and Shiro sitting at the dining room table. Plaxum and Shay were on their way back to New York and promised to let Hunk know when they were home safely. Lance dropped into a seat next to Hunk and Pidge sat next to Shiro; huffy, Coran plunked down into the seat next to Lance and refused to look at Pidge.

“Okay, Lance,” Allura said. “Let’s hear it.” She picked up her glass of water to take a sip.

“I was talking to Nyma today,” Lance said, “and she told me that Rolo’s dead.”

Allura choked on her water. “Rolo’s  _ dead _ ?” 

Lance nodded, pulling the inch-thick file out of his bag. “I asked some questions -  _ discreetly _ , Allura, don’t look at me like that - and I got his entire case file.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow. “Only by asking questions? You didn’t have to use any  _ other _ methods of persuasion?”

Lance turned on them. “Believe it or not - ” he began hotly, but Hunk’s eyes bugged out when he saw the file and he cut Lance off. “That’s his entire  _ case file _ ?”

“It’s mostly the contents of his laptop,” Lance said. “I went through the important stuff at home today.”

“Tell us the important stuff,” Allura said, and Lance sighed and flipped through a few pages.

“Okay,” he said. “So it looks like Rolo was working for the VA before he joined up with the Galra. It all happened after a mission he did in Galratia in June 2042, so just a few months before Keith joined.”

The table’s mood changed at that, but Lance plowed on. “He had a fake email, and he was in direct contact with General Ezor for the entire time up until his death. I looked through the last few emails from before his death - he was the one who informed them about our meeting with Mayor Holt.” He extracted a few papers from his bag and tossed a lighter on the table. “I brought copies of the emails. Burn them once you’re done.”

“Part of the reason I like this organization so much is all the fun burning we get to do,” Coran said cheerfully, snatching a paper from the center of the table. “We never got to burn this much paper in the army.”

Lance removed the autopsy report and winced at the visuals provided. “So, single gunshot wound to the back of the neck. No sign of a struggle. Also regarding - no sign of a forced entry into the apartment, either.”

“So maybe someone Galra. Someone he knew,” Allura suggested.

Lance nodded, scanning the page. “I’d assume so. He died within seconds. The bullet hit his spinal cord first, and - ”

“Lance, please,” Coran said. “Spare us the details.”

“Sorry,” Lance said quietly, seeing that Pidge looked pale. “So - basically, it was a professional hit. No prints anywhere, and they were in and out within what was probably a matter of minutes.”

“Any security cameras?”

“Nothing that caught a face,” Lance said. “I - ”

Something pinged from Allura’s vicinity and Lance’s head shot up. “No way,” he said.

Allura extracted an old, old iPhone from her purse and unlocked it. “Looks like it,” she said. “Lance, would you like to do the honors?”

“Is this a firsthand email from - ?” Pidge asked, and Lance took the phone from Allura with shaky hands.

_ uuuhghghghghhhhhhhh bebz i hav so much 2 tell u and it all fukking SUX!!! my parents took me 2 work 2day and i met there fukking boss n he wuz a DICK! he sed i was WURTHLESS and that he wanted me 2 do sum fuking WORK for him wile i wuz they’re. bebz i bet u wuld of PUNCHED him omg bc ur so HOT n STRONG. ;p xxxxxxxxx _

_ anywayz bebby i just found out that 1 of my frends knos u!!! he wuz bein all weird abt it tho so i made sure hed NEVER stick his nek out of his place n talk 2 u again, bc i was getting jelly u kno??? fukking traitor that he didnt fuking tell me!!!!! ughhhhhhh i s2g i hate ppl SO much omgggggg _

_ Beb I just want 2 c u. N it sux but my FUCKING parents r taking away my computer privlegides bc i was “rude 2 theyre boss 2day.” im SO FUCKIGN ANGRY @ THEM!!!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUKC!!!!!!!! so i dont think ill b abl 2 email u 4 a wile. :( :( :( ;( :( :( :( : ( _

_ babey i luv u so so so so so so so much. i just want 2 c u!!!!!! y do u live so FUCKing far away baby. i luv u n i miss u and i hope u think abt me as much as i think abt u. i love u i love u i luv u i luv u!!! xxxxxxxxxx kisses u forever n ever. _

Lance looked up from the phone, stunned, and looked around at the table. “I can’t - you guys read it. Tell me what you think.”

As the phone passed around the table, Lance put his head in his hands and tried to think of any other way to interpret the information. (Traitor. Neck. Boss. Put to work.  _ I don’t think I’ll be able to email you for a while.  _ Someone they both knew. The ominous wording.) 

( _ I love you I love you I love you. _ )

“Wow,” Hunk said, handing the phone back to Lance. “That’s something.”

“So - ” Pidge said, “that’s - that’s what every email he sends looks like?”

Lance glanced at Allura. “Yeah, and then we decipher them.”

“Because I have no idea what that means,” Pidge said. “I don’t - I speak three languages and that is none of them.”

Allura sighed. “It means that - he was the one who killed Rolo.”

“Oh,” Pidge said.

Lance stared at the table.

“Do you think he’s had a hug in the past two years?” Hunk asked. “I mean, that email did say - it did also say he just met the emperor, right?”

Coran swiveled his head to stare at Hunk. “I didn’t even understand that.”

“His parents?” Hunk asked. “Took him to work and their boss asked him to do something? He won’t be able to be in contact for a while? He’s working directly for, uh, You-Know-Who.”

“Good analogy, Hunk,” Allura said. “But yes.”

Lance stared at the table.

“Lance, give that file here,” Coran said. “I’ll take a look over it tonight. Let’s just go over the details quickly and then we can all go home. How does that sound?”

“I’d love to go home,” Hunk said. 

Coran was speed-reading, going through the police report and the autopsy, summarizing as he went, but Lance couldn’t really hear it. Why was it always like this? Why did it have to get worse? 

“Lance?” Coran said, getting his attention. When he looked up, his old CO’s face was gentle. “Do you have anything else to add?”

Lance shook his head. “Nope! I, uh - I think you covered everything, Coran.”

“Lance, you know we’re all here for you,” Pidge said. “If you need - ”

“No,” Lance said, cutting them off. “This isn’t group therapy. It’s a meeting. And if we’re all done-”

“Allura, are we going to do anything about this information?” Shiro asked. “If we’re the only people here that know who killed Rolo…”

“No,” Allura said. “If Lance hadn’t stopped to talk to Nyma, we wouldn’t even know Rolo was dead. Officially, we  _ don’t know this information. _ Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Shiro said, no hint of humor in his voice. The corners of Allura’s lips twitched. 

“Dismissed,” she said, and Lance stood up, ready to bolt.

“Lance,” Coran said before he could make it to the door. “Stay for a moment, alright?”

Lance sighed and turned, pasting on a smile. “Yes, Coran?”

The others were pretending not to hear them as they talked quietly and filed out of the house, and Lance was grateful. “I’m sorry, Lance,” Coran said, taking him by the shoulder. “It hurts.”

Lance shrugged. “It’s fine. This probably had to happen at some point as he got further in. I was expecting it.” 

“You weren’t,” Coran said. “Lance, I - you know that Alfor, Allura’s father, was in my unit when I was in the military.”

“No,” Lance said, frowning. “Why? Is - why are - ?”

“We were fighter pilots in the nuclear war of 2021,” Coran said. “It was devastating. It was the war that made us think that - that it was to be the war that ended all wars.”

“I know that,” Lance said brusquely. “We all learn about it in school. How history repeats itself and stuff. Coran, if I’m just here for a history lesson - ”

“Alfor had to go undercover for a mission. Several missions,” Coran amended. “He was one of the best in our squad. He’d gotten out of suicidal missions before. We thought - we thought he could get out of anything.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Lance said.

“I’m  _ trying  _ to tell you that I understand what you’re going through, Lance,” Coran said. “I still don’t know if he’s dead or alive. He’s  _ still _ marked as MIA. Not knowing, all these years - I’ve felt what you’ve felt a  _ hundred  _ times over - ”

“No, you  _ haven’t _ !” Lance blurted out before he could stop himself. “He’s probably dead, Coran, but Keith’s not! I still have hope and that just makes it hurt  _ more! _ Keith and I are in  _ love _ ! He loves me and I love him and this is just - is just - you  _ don’t _ understand, Coran, he’s  _ everything _ ! He’s my entire  _ life _ , Coran, and now he’s just going to go radio silent for god knows how long, and I won’t  _ know a thing _ , and you, you and -  _ Alfor!? _ Seriously, Coran? - He was - he was just a member of - ”

Lance froze.

“Oh.”

He was the worst. He really was the worst. 

“Oh, Lance,” Coran said softly. “Still trying to hold everything inside you so that no one else can know. I’m trying to tell you. I know.”

“Were you and Alfor - ”

“No,” Coran said. 

“And he never - ”

“No,” Coran murmured.

“And he had Hyacinth.”

“And Allura.”

“Oh,” Lance said. “I’m so sorry. Coran. I didn’t mean any of that, Coran, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“I know,” Coran said. “I know you didn’t. But Lance. You have to know that that’s what you’re keeping in. All of that anger, all of that love, all of that sadness.” He tapped Lance’s heart with a finger. “You’re keeping all of that inside here. And you’re not  _ talking _ to anyone about it. You’re a grenade, and I didn’t even remove the pin.” His hand moved to Lance’s shoulder. “You can’t hold all of that in, Lance. You need to say it.”

Lance was choking. There was pressure behind his eyes, and his nose was stuffing up, and his breaths were coming shallower and shallower. “Coran - ”

“Come here,” Coran said, and pulled him into a hug. Lance felt himself breaking down, every bone in his body overflowing with everything he was keeping in, and he burst. And Coran held him through it, absorbing every sob and every scream.

It felt like hours. Lance talked and talked and Coran listened, got him tea, sat him on the sofa and gave him a throw pillow and a blanket and Lance felt like he was home again, with his family. 

“I don’t feel like part of me is missing,” he murmured, wiping away his tears. “Like. I mean. Yeah, it feels like my entire heart has been torn out of my chest, but I just feel - for the last two years, I’ve felt unreal. Or like, part of an incomplete thing. I’m not incomplete, I’m not the incomplete one. I’m still me. It’s like I’m - I’m just one weird fucking sock and there’s only one sock in the sock drawer that’s as weird as me, and now that other sock got lost in the laundry. Or maybe I’m the sock that got lost in the laundry. I don’t know.” He took a sip of his tea. “And I always think that I see glimpses of that other sock under the bed, but every time I go to look, it’s not there.”

Coran was smiling slightly. “You know that other weird sock misses you just as much, Lance.”

“I do,” Lance said. “Thank you, Coran. Thank you. I still - sometimes I still feel like a kid, especially now that Keith’s gone. Just a kid lost in a sea of adults.”

Coran chuckled and put a hand on Lance’s arm. “Please, Lance. Keith is absolutely the worse out of the two of you. He was a nightmare to have as a subordinate. I can only imagine how frustrated the Galra are with him and his stupid impulse decisions. You do know you’re the more mature one, right?”

“Sure,” Lance said. “But I needed that - I needed that  _ balance _ that he let me have. Keith didn’t let me push him away. He was stubborn. He anchored me to - to myself, I guess? He let me be who I needed to be, and yeah, yeah, I know it’s super unhealthy to be so dependent on that but it was just ripped away so suddenly from me and now I’m just like. I’m floundering - I’ve been floundering in the middle of the ocean for  _ two years _ , and I don’t have anything to hold on to. And I’m just so tired.”

Coran’s grip on Lance’s arm was vicelike. “Lance. You may not have your other sock. You may not have Keith right now. But you _still have all of us_. You’re not alone in the ocean - we are _right_ _here_. You just have to look for us.”

Lance nodded and pressed his lips together, trying not to let the flow of tears start up again. “I will. I will. Thank you.”

Coran ruffled his hair and stood from the couch, stretching. “Go home. Get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir,” Lance mocked, standing as well. “What should I do with this tea, sir?”

“I’ll handle the dishes, Corporal.” Coran said, answering in kind. And then, softer: “Thank you for talking to me, Lance.”

“Thank you for listening,” Lance said. “I - I really, really needed that.”

“I know,” Coran said, and smiled.

Lance shrugged on his jacket, and stood at the door. “Will I see you tomorrow, sir?”

“You will,” Coran said. “Good night, Lance.”

“Good night,” Lance echoed, and then closed the door behind him.

~

Lance was running on a treadmill, which was something he almost never did. He felt lighter. He felt like his skin had been upgraded to deity-level. (Who was he kidding - it was already godlike.) He’d slept better. And to think he’d been the one lecturing  _ Nyma _ yesterday about going to a therapist. Maybe he really did need to talk to someone about his feelings. Maybe he really didn’t have everything under control.

The music in his headphones stopped and the ringtone on his phone went off. He pressed one finger to the treadmill to slow it to a light jog and took out his phone to check the caller ID. He hit talk and took out the headphones. “Hey, Hunk! What’s up, buddy!”

“ _ Hey Lance! You sound - where are you? _ ”

“On a treadmill, gettin’ that good, good, exercise,” Lance said. “Why?”

“ _ Nothing, I just - haven’t heard you on a treadmill in a while, _ ” Hunk said. “ _ You used to love running. _ ”

“It’s the legs, Hunk,” Lance explained, slowing the treadmill to a stop and climbing off. “You can’t waste legs like these.”

“ _ Riiiiight, _ ” Hunk said. 

“Actually, I talked to Coran about - you know, everything, for a while last night,” Lance said, tilting his head into the phone and lowering his voice. “It actually helped. I think I really needed it.”

“ _ Lance, that’s - that’s great! I was hoping you’d talk to someone at some point! Actually, that’s sort of why I was calling - I have to meet with Coran about the food truck that’s outside?”  _ Before Lance could get worried that there was a bomb disguised as a food truck outside, Hunk continued quickly, _ “They’re legit! It’s fine, they’re fine, it’s not like a danger issue, but after they moved spots they took up more parking and people are complaining, but -  _ ” He cut himself off. “ _ Sorry, I’m getting off track. Have you seen Coran? That’s why I’m calling. He’s not in his office, and nobody else has seen him, I was hoping you had. You know where everyone is. _ ”

Lance froze in the middle of wiping the sweat off his forehead. “He’s not in his office?”

“ _ He’s not anywhere. I thought maybe he’d told you about if he wasn’t going to be in today. _ ”

“No, he specifically said that he’d be in today. He said he’d see me tomorrow. Today, tomorrow, you know what I mean.”

“ _ Right, _ ” Hunk said, and now he sounded worried. “ _ Right. You’d better be up soon. _ ”

“I’ll be up there as soon as I can,” Lance said, and hit the  _ end call button _ .

He took the fastest gym shower of his life and dashed up to Allura’s office, bursting in on two police officers in full uniform standing in front of her desk.

“What’s going on?” he panted, and one of them turned.

“Sir, this doesn’t involve you,” one of them said, striding toward him, but Lance planted his feet.

“Yes, it does. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“He can stay,” Allura said. “He  _ should _ stay.”

“Ma’am, are you - ”

Allura’s eyes were fiery. “I already told you, officer, it’s  _ Commander _ . I  _ also _ already said that this man,  _ Corporal Lance Espinosa, _ should stay. Now, do you have a listening problem or can you follow orders?”

The officer inclined his head. “Yes, Commander.” He looked towards Lance, who closed the door behind him and stood next to Allura’s desk, glaring. “We usually don’t take missing persons calls until it’s been over twenty-four hours. But Lieutenant Smythe is important enough that we began investigating immediately.” He presented several pictures, lying them out on Allura’s desk. “His house was deserted, and there were no signs of a forced entry. But we found signs of a struggle.”

Lance skimmed through the pictures. A broken cabinet. A kitchen knife with blood on it. The remains of several broken plates. A shattered mug - the one that Lance held and drank tea out of just the night before. 

His face remained stoic. Allura looked furious. “Did his security system register any alarms?”

“No, sir. The front door video surveillance was placed on a loop and the code was deactivated.”

“And whose blood is that on the knife?”

“We’re still running DNA tests in the lab. As soon as we know those answers, we’ll let you know.”

Lance looked over at Allura. She shook her head and looked at the cops. “So in all likelihood…”

The cop nodded and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Corporal, Commander, but Lieutenant Smythe has been kidnapped.”

  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emperor Zarkon's mission for Agent K draws closer, and K must put all of his preparations in place. But with the unexpected appearance of a prisoner at the Galra Intelligence Operations, a prisoner K knows, he scrambles to go back on the promise he just made to Lance and Allura in order to save his life and possibly the entire Voltron Alliance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's posting on time wooooo~~~~! here is chapter seven! the next chapter will be up june 28, the anniversary of the stonewall riots!!
> 
> also i think i'm going to start doing chapter summaries like the one above as well. they're more exciting. 
> 
> spoilers for TW: there is a lot of torture by electrocution, specifically in the first half of the chapter. there's also hints of physical and emotional abuse in a flashback, as well as bullying, weed, and alcohol. see end notes for more. also be forewarned: chapter eight will have a LOT of violence. i'm warning u now
> 
> also, i want to say thank you so much to everyone who posted a comment on chapter six!! they made me feel like the happiest i've ever felt!!!

_ “ _ **_Supernova 1, do you have eyes on target?_ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Only on infrared vision, Lieutenant. I do not have a clean shot._ ** _ ” Lance’s voice comes through clear as a bell. _

_ “ _ **_Nebula 3, status._ ** _ ” _

_ “Still no luck on our end either, sir,” Pidge says, adjusting her goggles. She mutes her comm and sits back in her chair in front of the dirty window. Keith has the window opposite, peering through his binoculars. “God, this guy sucks. It’s been four days, and no fucking dice.” _

_ “Keep a sharp eye, Sergeant,” Shiro says from his place with the laptop in the corner. He’s slowly typing with his right hand, trying to get used to the new prosthetic. “We’ll catch him.” _

_ “Keith’s got a  _ ‘sharp eye,’” _ Pidge mocks irritatedly. “He’s still on guard.” _

_ “Well, we need both of you to stay that way,” Shiro snaps. “I know we’re all on edge. I know stakeouts suck. But it’s worth it if in the end we finally catch this monster.” _

_ Pidge glances over at Keith, her gaze soft. Keith looks back at her and bows his head sadly. Then he goes back to his scope. _

_ He wants to catch this guy and put him behind bars forever. Forever and a day, for what he did to Shiro.  _

_ “ _ **_Guys, I got movement,_ ** _ ” Hunk says, and Pidge flicks her comm on and Keith watches Admiral Sendak’s heat signature slowly move around the building. _

_ “ _ **_Galaxy 2 here. I don’t have a clear shot,_ ** _ ” Matt says. “ _ **_Nebula team?_ ** _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Negative,_ ** _ ” Pidge says, tense. _

_“_ ** _Supernova 1 here. I’ve got a non-kill shot,_** _” Lance says._ _“_ ** _Prepare to storm the building. I’m taking it in 3. 2. 1-_** _”_

K’s eyes opened before his alarm went off. 

He did his sit ups. He did his push ups. He did his lunges.

He took a shower.

He made his oatmeal.

The computer said, “ Good morning, Agent K. You have two items on your agenda today, August 7th, 2044. Item number one, from General Ezor. Report to GIO interrogation monitoring rooms at 1030. Item number two, from Emperor Zarkon. Report to Komar Airfield at 1815 to begin extraction mission.”

K sighed and ate a mouthful of oatmeal. “Anything else?”

“ That’s all I have, Agent. ”

“Thanks,” K said.

He arrived at the GIO headquarters at 1023. The interrogation monitoring rooms were on the third basement floor - level G3 - so he took the elevator with a bunch of low-level grunts and agents who all conspicuously avoided looking at him. 

“Agent,” Acxa greeted him as he arrived. She held the door to the monitoring room open. “Come in. Our guest will be up soon.”

“Who is it?” K asked, looking at the bare gray walls. The interrogation room through the mirror in front of him was dimly lit with cold lighting, the audio silent with the stagnant air inside. “I don’t do interrogations.”

“No, you don’t,” Acxa said, glancing at him coolly. “And Emperor Zarkon didn’t insist on you interrogating the prisoner either, but Ezor, Prince Lotor, and I think it would be interesting to watch the two of you interact.”

K blinked and let the surprise show on his face. “A guest of great interest, then.”

The door to the interrogation room creaked, and Acxa smiled slightly. “Oh, yes, Agent K.  _ Very  _ great interest.”

K pulled himself straighter as General Ezor pushed his old friend into the interrogation room and slammed the door. Coran looked the worse for wear, a yellowing bruise around his right eye and part of his trademark moustache sheared off. His right arm was in a sling, forcing him to hold his left arm up at an awkward angle to keep his handcuffed wrists together. K could tell he was favoring his right side as well; his ribs didn’t look broken, but K knew that Coran could hide a lot of pain when he needed to.

“ _ Coran Hieronymus Wimbledon Smythe, _ ” Ezor chirped, beaming. “ _ That’s quite a mouthful! _ ”

Coran sat primly in his chair, his back as straight as it went, and looked directly into the mirror that stood between the interrogation room and Axca and K. He said nothing.

“ _ My name is General Ezor, _ ” Ezor said. “ _ I’m just gonna ask you a couple of easy peasy questions today and all you have to do is answer truthfully, okay, Lieutenant? _ ”

Coran wasn’t even blinking.

“ _ Great! So, my first question. How many people work for the Voltron Alliance at the present moment? I want you to count from the top brass all the way down to the newest recruit. _ ”

Coran stared straight ahead. If he had looked over just the barest bit, he would have unknowingly met K’s eyes through the mirror. 

“ _ Oh, I’m sorry! _ ” Ezor said, and took out her phone. “ _ That wasn’t the correct answer. Why don’t you try again? _ ” She made a few taps, and Coran began to convulse violently, shudders racking his body as he curled over the table. He didn’t scream, and Ezor seemed disappointed as his body slowly relaxed, his chest heaving, trying to pull breath into his lungs as tears silently streamed down his cheeks.

“What the hell are those handcuffs made of?” K asked, trying to sound impressed and curious.

“It’s a new luxite design from the engineers,” Axca said. “They’re remote-activated electroshock handcuffs. Ezor has the trigger on her phone, so when she enters the code, they send out several pulses of electricity. According to our test subjects, it’s very painful.”

“Who were our test subjects?”

“ _ How’s this, Coran?” _ Ezor beamed. _ “Who is your commander in the Voltron Alliance? Just a name. I just want one name. _ ”

Acxa glanced into the room as Coran’s back arched, invisible pain wracking his body. 

“ _ Does the FBI know that a dangerous secret society is operating out of their very base, under their very nose?” _

“Objection, leading,” Acxa said quietly into the comm device in her ear. Inside the interrogation room, Ezor laughed.

_ “I’m sorry, Coran, that wasn’t fair of me! _ ” she laughed.  _ “Does the FBI know that the Voltron Alliance is hiding and working within their ranks?” _

Ezor was in the room with Coran for an hour. A few times Acxa pressed the comm in her ear and spoke softly to her, feeding her questions and comments, but otherwise she and K were silent, listening to Ezor ask questions. Her bright, cheerful tone never faded, and she never got Coran to scream.

Finally, she left, and Coran bent his head to the desk, his shoulders shaking. 

“Aw, he’s crying,” Ezor said, entering the monitoring room. “I wish he was talking! Gosh, but he’s a hard one to crack, now isn’t he? Very tight-lipped underneath that weird orange half-moustache.”

“Prince Lotor wants to know how the interrogation is going,” Axca said. “I told him we hadn’t made any progress.”

“Ooooh, why don’t you invite him down!” Ezor said. “I bet he could get Smythe to talk. He’s pretty scary.”

“I thought we’d have luck if we sent in Agent K,” Axca said, and K frowned at her. “Lt. Smythe is his old C.O., and he probably hasn’t seen ‘ _ Keith’ _ in a long time. Might make him realize just how futile his situation is.”

Ezor’s eyes sparkled. She turned to K. “Oh my God, Agent K,  _ please, please, pretty please!! _ That would be  _ so much fun to watch _ !” 

Acxa put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous, baby. Of course he’s going to do it.”

K nodded. “I’ll go in. Should I have the trigger for the handcuffs?”

Ezor pulled out her phone, her thumbs already flying. “I’ll send you the app.”

Five minutes later, K opened the door to the interrogation room. Coran didn’t look at him, or even acknowledge him. He just stared at the wall, expressionless.

“Lieutenant,” K said. “It’s been a while.”

Coran stared through him, his eyes dark. 

“I guess you didn’t really train me to be a master interrogator, back at Basic, at the Garrison,” K said, and Coran flinched. “But, you know, I - when I heard you were here, I wanted to see you.”

“ _ Interesting tactic,” _ Acxa said in his ear. 

“So is Allura your superior now? Shiro?” K asked, and something was jumping in Coran’s jaw. “Come on, Coran. There’s no use not telling us.” He waited. “Is it someone else? Someone new?... Does the President know?” He took a breath. “I heard that Shiro was part of the Secret Service now. It suits him well.”

Coran’s eyes were filled with pain, and K felt like his throat was closing up. Even just looking at him, soaking him in, made the hurt in his sternum almost unbearable. Coran  _ loved  _ him. Here was someone who  _ knew  _ him for everything he was, and loved him. K missed him, and here he was, and yet here they were on the opposite sides of the interrogation table.

K sighed, and took out his phone, entering the code for the handcuffs; they immediately began buzzing loudly, something that K hadn’t been able to hear from the monitoring room. Coran jolted and an aborted cry came from his mouth, his eyes rolling back in his skull. He threw his head back, his mouth open in a silent scream of pain.

“ _ Good work, Agent. You almost made him cry out. Keep going _ .”

“How about you tell me something now?” K asked, his voice level, as Coran slumped over the desk, gasping. “Just something little. Some brand-new development that I never could have guessed. Nothing that would hurt the Alliance. A tidbit.”

Coran looked up at him, and for the first time, K was able to see how much the two most recent years had aged him. His eyes were getting old, rimmed with red and wrinkles, and the gray streaks in his bright hair stood out brilliantly under the lights. 

He made a raspy sound. “I…”

K nodded encouragingly. “Yes?”

Coran clamped his mouth shut. K backhanded him, and immediately wanted to vomit as Coran’s head snapped to the side, Coran slowly working his jaw through the pain.

“We were just getting somewhere,” K said. “Why don’t you elaborate.” It wasn’t a question. He positioned his thumb over the phone screen.

When he pressed the trigger again, Coran didn’t make a sound.

Eventually, after not getting another sound out of Coran, no matter what he did, Acxa said into K’s earpiece. “ _ This isn’t getting anywhere. Agent, rejoin us. Prince Lotor is here, and he would like to speak with you. _ ”

“Think about it,” K said as he stood, taking his phone from the table and inspecting the screen for the electric handcuffs that was still displayed. Coran had his face pressed against the cool of the table and was trembling from head to toe.

As he reached for the door handle, a rough, scratchy voice stopped him in his tracks. “Keith.”

He waited. 

“Come home.”

K pressed his thumb to the trigger on his phone and Coran let out a bloodcurdling scream as the same electricity ran through his bones, his veins. When the electricity let up, he didn’t stop screaming. And screaming. And screaming.

K pressed a hand to his temples and entered the monitoring room. 

“Most impressive,” Lotor said from where he leaned gracefully against a wall. “Most impressive indeed, Agent. No one has been able to get a sound from him so far. It seems  _ you _ may be our key to unlocking him.”

“Not me,” K said. “Someone else from his past. Someone else I’m going to collect very soon, on orders from the Emperor.”

“And who might that be?” Lotor asked, his eyes glinting.

K told him.

~

He was on a plane. Again. It seemed that most of K’s time he spent on airplane after airplane. He guessed it came with the life. Before the army, he’d never even been on a plane before.

He stared out the window and let his thoughts drift. The army. Basic at the Garrison. Life was so much simpler when he had Coran and Iverson barking orders at him and just, training, training, training. He’d only made it through because he knew that Shiro was waiting for him on the other side - he put in a request to join Shiro’s unit, and it went through early on. Even at eighteen, he knew that that sort of dependency on someone wasn’t healthy, but Shiro was everything he had. 

They’d met in high school, when Shiro was a senior and Keith was a freshman. Other kids hadn’t been very nice to him, and he’d learned to fight back early on. It was what got him where Shiro found him, bleeding under the bleachers.

_ “Come on, man, can’t I - Jesus! Can I just get you into a bathroom to at least wash your fucking face?” The guy tugging on Keith’s arms is tall and built like a brick shithouse, a senior that Keith’s definitely seen around before but doesn’t know the name of. It’s enough to make Keith mistrust him at first sight. It’s more than enough to make him fight back tooth and nail as the guy tries to get him to stand up. He’s had too many bad experiences with brick-shithouse-seniors at this school. _

_ “Get the hell off of me, dickweed!” It carries no threat. Keith is a fucking twig. _

_ “I’m trying to fucking help!”  _

_ “I don’t want to go back inside the school!” Keith snarls at him, and he can taste the blood on his teeth. _

_ The guy pauses. “You could have just said,” he grumbles, and hauls Keith up by his armpits like a cat, releasing him and jerking his head towards the parking lot. “Come on.” _

_ Keith narrows his eyes, suspicious at the sudden change of heart. “Where?” _

_ “My car. And then my house,” the guy says. _

_ “It’s the middle of the day,” Keith protests.  _

_ “Well, neither of us are in class anyway, are we?” the guy asks, dragging Keith along. _

_ He has a point. _

_ His car is a mess. It smells faintly of weed, and there are old sandwich wrappers and plastic bags and old essays and paper towels scattered all over the backseat. Something is definitely moldy inside the glovebox. Keith pushes aside the empty beer cans by his feet and looks around in awe. _

_ “Are you…” Keith says, stunned, looking back at the guy as he digs in his pockets for his keys. “Are you a stoner?” _

_ “Not anymore,” the guy says, starting the car. It sputters before groaning to life. “I’m going straight - ha, ‘straight’ - directly into the army once I’m out of this stupid school. Gotta be squeaky clean.” _

_ “Gotta be cleaner than that,” Keith says, pointing to a nug of weed in the cup holder. _

_ The guy rolls his eyes, driving out of the parking lot. “Give me a break. It’s only November. My drug test isn’t for a few months yet.” _

_ Keith folds his arms and stares out the window. _

_ “What’s your name?” the guy asks. _

_ “Keith,” Keith mutters. _

_ “I’m Shiro.” _

_ “‘Kay.” _

_ Shiro’s house ends up being a fifteen-minute drive from the school, and the exact opposite of what Keith expects. It’s a twin with an unkempt brown lawn and a couple of prickly bushes out front. “Come on out,” he coaxes, standing in front of Keith’s door, and for the first time that day he’s almost smiling. “You’ve still got blood on you. And my mom’s home.” _

_ “Won’t she be mad at you for skipping school?” Keith asks, clambering out. _

_ “Nah,” Shiro says. “I’ve done it before, and always with a good reason. She covers for me. She trusts me.” _

_ Keith looks away. “Must be nice,” he grumbles, and then, louder, “Does she know you smoke?” _

_ Shiro laughs. Actually laughs. “She taught me how to roll my first blunt.” _

_ Keith slowly follows him up the walkway, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt as Shiro struggles to fit the key in the lock. _

_ “MOOOOMMM!!” he yowls as he walks in. A dog barks from somewhere inside. _

_ “Takashi?” comes a response from somewhere else in the house, and Shiro turns to Keith and grins, reaching past him to shut the door as Keith enters. _

_ A pounding on the stairs, and then a woman with Shiro’s eyes and a strong jawline peers at the both of them. “Takashi, baby - ” She spots Keith. “Oh my goodness!”  _

_ She rushes to Keith, raising her hands, and he instinctively jerks backwards. Instead of doing what he expects, though, she takes his face gently and turns it from side to side. “Baby, you’re HURT! Takashi, why are you just standing there? Get him a new shirt, this one’s got - ” She plucks disdainfully at Keith’s oversized flannel. “-mud, and, and dirt all over it.” _

_ (It’s blood, but she’s too nice to say it.) _

_ Keith sort of expects that to be the end of it, once Mrs. Shirogane cleans him up gentler than he’s ever been treated and Shiro drives him back to his foster home, where Cynthia, his foster mom, has apparently not realized he was gone.  _

_ But that’s not the end of it. When Shiro sees him at school the next day, he grins and grabs Keith in a headlock and ruffles his hair gently. “What’s up, Keith?” _

_ Keith breaks free easily and stares at him. Some of the people around them are staring too, jaws slack. _

_ “Uh.” Keith can’t find the words. “Not - not much, I guess? What’s up with you?” _

_ Shiro shrugs, leaning easily against the locker next to Keith’s. “All my friends are busy with football after school today. And baseball season’s over, so I’ve got nothing to do. Want to hang out?” _

_ Keith nods.  _

_ “Cool!” Shiro says. “Meet you in the parking lot after school, then.” He saunters off, sees one of his buddies and greets him with a complex friendship handshake. _

_ “Did that seriously just happen?” says a girl’s voice behind Keith. “I can’t believe that. This is a nightmare.” _

_ Keith turns. “What are you talking about?” _

_ “Takashi Shirogane is  _ GAY! _ ” she wails, and people around them stop talking and turn around. “This is a TRAGEDY!” _

_ Keith’s panicking. He knew this would happen. Or - well, he didn’t know  _ this _ would happen, but he knew something would - “He’s not gay! Don’t be an idiot,” he snaps at her, and the girl glares at him.  _

_ “You  _ turned _ him gay,” she pouts, and Keith throws his hands up in the air.  _

_ “It’s 20-fucking-30!” he shouts. “Holy shit, how stupid are you?” _

_ The rumor spreads like wildfire, and by the end of the day, Keith is terrified to meet Shiro, terrified that Shiro is going to realize what hanging out with  _ Keith _ means for  _ him _ , and not want to be friends anymore. If they even are friends. Holy shit, are they even friends?  _

_ He doesn’t go to the parking lot. Better to be proactive about it. _

_ That had been a Friday. On the following Saturday, Keith is holed up in the bedroom that he shares with his two younger foster brothers, playing first-person-shooter video games fully dressed when the doorbell rings. _

_ “I’LL GET IT!” shouts a voice from Keith’s foster sister Anna, and Keith relaxes back into his pillow, aiming for a target and missing by a long shot. After a few moments of quiet talking downstairs, the door closes, and then her feet are pounding on the stairs on her way up to see him. “Keith,” she says, poking her head in the door. “Hey. Keith.” _

_ “What?” Keith grumbles. _

_ “Fucking Takashi Shirogane is here? And he wants to see  _ **_you?_ ** _ ” _

_ God, that guy is a persistent motherfucker.  _

_ “Tell him to go away.” _

_ “Keith,” Anna says primly. “One does not simply just  _ **_tell Takashi Shirogane to go away_ ** - _ are you CRAZY!?” She hits him on the head with a pillow. “Come on, dude! You know how I feel about him! This could be my chance!” _

_ “You’re fourteen,” Keith says, but he gets out of bed and heads to the bathroom to at least brush his teeth so Takashi Shirogane doesn’t smell his horrible, terrible breath when Keith yells at him to leave. “Don’t be stupid.” _

_ “I’m not stupid,” Anna says. She folds her arms and follows him into the bathroom. “Age is just a number anyways. Be friends with Shiro so that he can fall in love with me.” _

_ “Shiro’s not gonna fall in love with you,” Keith says through a mouthful of toothpaste. He spits it out and rinses his mouth. _

_ “And why is that!!” Anna shouts at him. _

_ Keith turns around and glares at her. “It’s cause you suck.” _

_ Anna storms out after him as he heads downstairs, yelling. “I don’t suck! Keith You Take That Back Right Now Or I’m Telling Cynthia!” _

_ “Fucking do it, I don’t care,” Keith says, stopping in front of Shiro, who’s looking at the pictures on the mantel. “Why are you here?” _

_ “Why aren’t you  _ here _?” Shiro asks, turning to face him. _

_ “That was a dumb response,” Keith says.  _

_ “No, I’m serious,” Shiro says, and he turns back to the mantel. “Your picture isn’t here.” _

_ “Oh, it’s because this is my foster parents’ house,” Keith explains. Shiro looks at him as if he’s grown two heads. _

_ “That explained nothing, Keith,” Shiro grouses. “Why wouldn’t your foster parents have your picture on their wall?” _

_ “Why would they?” Keith asks, not looking at Shiro and scuffing the ground with the toe of his sock. _

_ “Whatever,” Shiro says in a tone of voice that definitely didn’t  _ mean _ “whatever.” “Anyway, I’m here to pick you up. We didn’t get to hang out on Friday, so we’re hanging out now. I thought we could go to McDonald’s, maybe that retro arcade by the docks. You down?” _

_ Guilt churns in Keith’s stomach. “I - ” _

_ “Let’s just go,” Shiro says. “Just put on your shoes.” _

_ Keith stares at the door, and then Anna, who’s at the top of the stairs, and then Shiro. “Fine,” he says. “An arcade.” _

K had a day before his mission began to get everything in order - his weapons, his tech, his cover story. The GIO supplied him with a guard’s uniform and key card, but the entire plan hinged on Keith himself.

He met up with Klaizap Arus at a corner table in a crowded coffee shop. “Thanks for doing this for me,” he said, hat bent low over his face. “I know it’s a strange mission, but I hear you’re a good driver.”

“Been driving since I was thirteen, sir,” Arus boasted. 

K raised an eyebrow.

“W-Well, I mean - I - ...yeah. I know you can’t legally start until you’re sixteen, but sir, in my defense - ”

“I didn’t ask for a story,” K said. “I just needed to know you were good.” He pulled a map out of his backpack and unfolded it. “Get a good night’s sleep tonight, because this is all going down tomorrow night.” He took a deep breath and moved his pointer finger along a route on the map. “Here’s the deal. You need to take control of a food delivery truck, which departs from Health Food Factory, LLC, at 0015 AM. From there, you’re going to drive it northeast, up 95, and then take a right on Fulter Road. With me so far?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Arus said.

K nodded briskly. “East on Fulter. There’s a stoplight at this church, right here, the Episcopal Church of Saint Sebastian. I’ll be there at 0130 and you will pick me up. If I’m not, drive in circles until I am. Once I’m with you, you’ll drive to the Quantico Marine Corps Penitentiary and we,” he unfolded another map, “arriving at 0145 sharp, will enter here, through this back security entrance for deliveries only. You’ll give them a fake ID, any fake ID, and we’ll proceed to loading bay number 4, I’ll get out, get in, and you’ll unload the food. Act like you know what you’re doing. And put some contacts in your eyes. No one needs to know you’re Galra.” 

“Sir.”

“Once that’s done, you get out of there. Ditch the truck. You’ll then walk to - ” he moved to the first map again - “the Quantico Police department. Van with the license plate 2741 is a decoy. You’re going to take that police van and drive back to the penitentiary, where you’ll enter through the front gate. The fake van will have a fake police ID and uniform for you to wear. You’re there for a prisoner transfer. Don’t touch the ID without gloves - there’s a skin-absorbent toxin laced with massive amounts of benzodiazepines that will take three minutes to take effect, but then knock you out for thirty minutes. That’s for the security guard, so make sure you’re not back at the compound until AFTER 0200, understand?”

Arus was taking notes.

“Wait in the parking lot. Lights off, car off. You’re down in your seat. No one sees you. But you need to be awake and ready to book it when I get back with the prisoner, which will be sometime before 0230. And when I say book it, I mean book it.”

“Who’s the prisoner, sir?” Arus asked.

“That’s need to know,” K said, “and you don’t.” He leaned forward. “Can I trust you?”

“Yessir,” Arus said. “Without question. I would give you my life.”

“You don’t need to go that far,” K said. “Just be on time. Arus - ” He paused. “Is this your first mission?”

“Yes, sir,” Arus confirmed, almost shy.

“Don’t mess up,” K smiled. It was ugly.

Arus gulped.

“Good-bye,” K said, and Arus bolted out of the cafe.

In the bathroom of the coffee shop, he sat fully clothed on the toilet and scribbled a letter onto a sheet of paper. Once he was done, he folded it into another map from his backpack. That map was a full layout of the GIO building in Galratia that K had painstakingly created it by hand from the partial maps he could extract from computers. The GIO did not keep a single full map of the building anywhere on their servers or in the library, only partial layouts and separate floor plans.

Six hours later found K on a bus to DC, wearing old jeans, an unwashed sweatshirt, and no deodorant. Smells were powerful things - no one approached him. He hunched over in his seat and put his best scowl on his face as he scanned over the letter, just to make sure he’d written it correctly. K could speak this language as fluently as English, but it was difficult. Sometimes there were slip-ups, and he didn’t want anything to get lost in translation.

He got off seven blocks from where he wanted to be; the bus could have gotten him closer but he didn’t want to be tracked. This was dangerous espionage. This was really, really dangerous espionage, especially when it took place under the very nose of the emperor of the world, but if he pulled it off, he’d be saving a very important life.

He silently scaled the fire escape of the old brick apartment building, the map and the letter tucked safely inside a pocket. He stopped on the fifth floor, in front of a slightly grimy window with a screen on the outside to keep the bugs out. K peered in. A green light mounted on the far wall inside blinked lethargically at him, and K smiled. So he  _ had _ upgraded his security, then. Smart.

The screen cut like butter when he sliced his luxite knife through it. He picked the lock on the window and tossed the map and letter inside. The green light went red, and K quickly closed the window and crept down the fire escape. He knew the information would be safe. There were only two people in the world who were able to read that letter.

Once on the ground, he looked up at the window he’d just opened. A light turned on from far off in the apartment, and he blew a kiss to the air.  _ I love you. _

+

Lance’s phone buzzed urgently beside him, and he slapped blearily at it.  _ Long, long. Long, short, short. Long, long. Long, short, short.  _ M...D…? His sleep-addled brain mulled over the letters.

_ Motion detected. _

In an instant, the gun was in Lance’s hands and he slithered out of bed, thankful for investing in the one box spring in the world that didn’t creak. His eyes adjusted to the dark and as he padded across his floor, he listened for anything out of place in the apartment. Someone moving, or someone rustling through anything.

Silence. Whoever this was, they were good.

He flicked on the living room light, immediately moving his hand back to where the gun rested, steady. The apartment stood still and cold, and the living room seemed undisturbed.

No, that was a lie.

Something square and pale lay underneath the window. Lance lowered the gun some of the way and crouched next to it, gingerly picking it up. It was folded into a small piece of paper, but the creases were thick and fresh, already slowly folding open from one side. He threw open the window and peered outside, but there was no one on his block. He hadn’t really expected to see anyone, but it would have been nice to finally catch someone breaking into his apartment. The screen was torn, though, so he’d have to get that replaced.  _ Coño. _

He closed the window and sighed, taking the paper into the kitchen and turning on the lights. Slowly, he unfolded it.

It was a map. A  _ hand-drawn  _ map. Lance turned it around, noting the piece of paper that fell out, but letting it settle to the ground as he inspected the map. A building, several stories. Labels - 5Q, 5M, 5K, 3K, 3M, and groups of letters that had no meaning to him: QMZ, QMT, QMQ. There seemed to be room labels as well, but they were nonsensical: 18CDB8I, 5F3BE. He scanned them again, and then something in his mind started working, letters and numbers scrolling by like a train station flipboard, or something out of  _ The Matrix _ .

_ CONTROL. GUARD _ . 

He scrambled to pick up the other piece of paper.

He unfolded it slowly, his hands shaking. His breath caught in his throat as he scanned it, barely hoping that he had recognized the words - and the hand that wrote the words. There were only two people in the world that could read this letter, this  _ code _ , and Lance was one of them.

He read it through again, his mind working in overdrive, but he automatically recognized some parts of it, at least. He traced his fingers over the pen-scribbled final line.  _ 9I8G4Y8F. V403R4. _

What a smart man that was. He folded up the map and locked it in his spice pantry, but he took the letter with him as he mulled it over, climbing back into bed and putting the gun back under his pillow. He clutched it tight to his chest, slowly decrypting it in his mind.

I3C14W4E8CDOG46F1OD96. VFBCDO908C1Y8FB4E9D.

18B3C90V4C5O4IEC4D8BDFB4ECDO458O4347F3BD4B0C53lB3D93. DO4YB4244A9C5O69C[5M], 14II[XQ]. DO3D0DO460DO43G9lY5F3BEE3C43B6E041D98CCDO4VFl49C5, DW8RI8B09CD8DOV30464CDC48CDOC8BDO09E. Y8FIIC44E08648C0R9C54BAB9CDC424Y1B43C4CY8F1CDF046C4. DO4B43B4041FBDY1364B30II8G4BDOAI314, 08RC40864FC9RB60WO9l4Y8FB3DD8BD248FDDO041FB9DYW3D1O6CR8BRl8B[5M](RO8BQB6QMZ). DO4Y0W9D1O0AD04G4BYOFB, 8CDOO8FB. DO418E4DI8B3C01II1O3C5404GBYW442, C49D1OC54EY40D4B43Y, 0V4C3C48DVYCHD68C43Y, B4I04YFW8CDV3VI4D54DC. 184490[QS4PG]. Y8F13C5D9CDOBF5ODO4V3046CD53B354VDDO44I4GD8BB47F9B4035924Y1B4. D324DO401FB9DY5F3B40. O403IW3Y030I4A3DC5OD. 

968C3690098CRB6DO446A4BBO9604IRDVB43204C428FDRAB908CD7F3CD918. 54D18B3C8DVYCHD68C43Y. [9I8G4Y8F. V403R4.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings in detail: coran is tortured by way of electric shock handcuffs by general ezor and keith. in keith's flashback about how he and shiro met, shiro finds him after keith was beat up by bullies. in his car, keith sees and smells weed as well as empty beer cans. keith also mentions how when shiro's mother raises her hands to cup his face, he flinches back, expecting to be hit; it's also hinted that keith's foster parents completely disregard him when shiro comes over to keith's house and keith mentions that his foster mother didn't realize he had skipped school.
> 
> this chapter is also entitled: say goodbye to My Immortal keith, BITCHEZ, it's code time
> 
> the new season is TOMORROW!!! WHAT!!!! it's literally shaping up to be the WILDEST FUCKING RIDE!!! talk to me about it on [tumblr!!](https://paladumb.tumblr.com/)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent K's first mission for Emperor Zarkon brings him closer to his past than he ever wanted to be; nothing is more dangerous than an enemy who knows you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should write for voltron
> 
> in honor of s7 here's some good keith content instead of whatever the fuck that was! 
> 
> trigger warnings for death, violence, blood, guns, knives, religion. 
> 
> [find me on tumblr.](paladumb.tumblr.com) let's scream into the void
> 
> this chapter is also called: "this chapter separates the boys from the mens. i think i am the mens. i hope i am the mens. // *cinemasins voice* futuristic unexplained technology ex machina //me researching this chapter: i PROMISE i'm not trying to break into a prison i'm just a writer"

K had never worn contacts before.

His purple eyes marked him as Galra; after five minutes at the drugstore, they were safely hidden away, now a dark brown. He’d been growing his hair out because he’d  _ missed  _ it when it was long, back after the war and before he met his mother, but he looked himself in the mirror and slowly, carefully, buzzed it off. The luxite knife - a sure sign of being Galra - was hidden on his hip, along with another steel knife and his least favorite weapon: a handgun. He wore black pants and a dark gray sweatshirt. No reason to be uncomfortable tonight. He needed to  _ move _ . 

Of course he was being careful to conceal his identity - but more importantly, he was concealing his nature as Galra. Yes, Galratia had lawful control of the FBI and Washington and Quantico and the US Army and Marines - the whole US government. The whole  _ world. _ But what Keith was about to do was illegal on every square foot of soil in the world, and if he was caught, there was no telling how much trouble he’d be in. Everyone feared the Galra and their luxite strength, and distrusted the agents and officers that regularly circled through corporations and intelligence agencies “just to make sure everything was running smoothly.” 

On the outside, it looked like life hadn’t changed: Galra embassies stayed in major cities; local governments kept their laws and towns out of direct Galra control; Galra criminals imprisoned in the States were kept there. Galratia was just too small to have as much oversight as they wanted. But there was terror, too; there were whispers of eyes and ears  _ everywhere _ , and K himself was a scary story: one of thirteen agents with a license to kill and a very loose leash. Resistance leaders disappeared. Churches were bombed. Criminals went missing from prisons - everyone knew who it was. 

Everyone was too scared to say it.

K shook his head and went through his backpack. A detachable scope, a silencer, a rag, chloroform, another fun new design from the GIO science division. (This one they’d just described to him as “lockpicking jelly” and had pushed it into a keyhole. Moments later, there was a sizzling noise and the door attached to the keyhole swung open.) Fingerprint copier. Throwing knives. Extra ammo. He zipped it shut and swung it onto his back, flipping the hood of his sweatshirt up, and walked into the Episcopal Church of St. Sebastian.

It was still open, even at 1:00 AM, even when the world had been damaged nearly beyond repair and so few people believed anymore. Candles flickered in the stillness, as Keith closed the heavy door as quietly as he could, barely daring to make a sound in the expansive, reverberant hall. Faith could do incredible things. This old church, all stone and dark wood pews, was still here. The tiny, stubborn flames in their little translucent red cups. The brass boxes that stood mournfully next to them, begging for donations. 

Framed in wood behind the low-lit golden cross on the altar was a painting: a man, all but naked, tied to a tree, arrows sticking out of his neck and stomach and thigh. Little rivulets of dark blood ran down his skin, and he was twisting his neck upward, as if searching for something, or praying. His veins and muscles rippled underneath his skin. There was no halo behind his head.

Keith wasn’t a man of faith. But the beautiful resilience of churches like this little one, tall Gothic architecture and stained glass - darkened in the nighttime - made him believe in  _ something _ . He had to believe there was  _ something  _ more. The mortal man in the painting looked out over his head as he slid into a dark wooden pew.

He bowed his head and felt himself fade into the stillness. He breathed with the church, this  _ living _ old thing and its creaky wooden door and pews and the blue hymnals that his knees bumped into. It had rained here, the evening before, and the field surrounding the church was blossoming with life. And here was Keith, in the center of it, but at the same time, not here at all.

_ Forgive me _ , he thought.  _ Forgive me. _

_ “Shiro. You know I - I never put much stock in siblings. Sort of. I mean - what I’m trying to say - ” _

_ It’s three in the afternoon, and the diner is lazy-still, and Keith has a sandwich and Shiro has soup and two burgers. He winces as he wipes ketchup off his army greens. “Take your time, Keith,” Shiro says. “I’m listening.” He puts the napkin down. _

_ “My - foster siblings. I always had to call them my brothers and sisters, so, like, I don’t ever think that I - family doesn’t have a meaning for me,” Keith finally spits out. “Dad, mom, sister, brother, sibling - it doesn’t. I don’t feel anything. About that. They’re just labels. Words.” _

_ Shiro nods, fixing Keith with his kind, dark gaze. Keith’s going to follow him into the army anyway, but he thinks that Shiro and his empathetic eyes shouldn’t be in a war. That’s not what the world should give him. It’s not what he deserves. _

_ “But. Family has a meaning now, I guess,” Keith says. “Because I was - I applied for a job the other day,” and Shiro’s face lights up - “and they asked me if I had any siblings, and some part of me went to say no but the other went to say yes, and uh, all I said was ‘Yo?’” _

_ Shiro laughs, but his eyes are bright and shining, about to spill over with tears.  _

_ Keith sighs, and says, “So - I thought about it, a little bit. And, like - I-mean-I-don’t-think-I-got-the-job, but - it made me think, and I guess... I sort of think of you as my brother. I do - I do think of you as my brother. Like what I always imagined a brother was supposed to be like, I guess, like my family or something, I dunno.” He tries one more time: “When I think of ‘brother,’ I think of you.” _

_ Shiro reaches across and takes his shoulder. “Keith, look at me.” _

_ Keith looks at him, and there are tears spilling down his cheeks. “I would be honored to call you my brother.” _

He blinked his eyes open and raised his head so he could see the altar, where two sets of blue hydrangeas sat on opposite sides of the painting, spilling over the sides of their gold vases. “Shiro,” he whispered, and his brother’s name echoed into the rafters and made a home for itself in the corners. “I’m  _ sorry _ .” He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and refused to let the tears fall. “I’m so sorry.”

His words mixed with the sounds of a million other apologies, from centuries of people resolute and uncertain, faithful and disbelieving, who had found their home, and who were still looking.

Keith walked out down the middle aisle, the man in the painting watching him trail both hands along the intricate sides of the pews as he left.

~

A truck pulled into the parking circle in front of the church at precisely 1:29 AM. A hand opened the door from the inside, and K climbed in, raising an eyebrow at Klaizap Arus. “You’re only one minute early.”

“Thank you, sir,” Arus said eagerly, and K almost rolled his eyes as they pulled out and onto the road. “Were you waiting long, sir?”

“I was not,” K said, and pondered it for a second before saying, “If you’re in the area again at some other time, however, you should go into that church.”

“I didn’t know you were religious, sir,” Arus said nervously.

“I’m not,” K told him. “But we can all appreciate something beautiful.”

Arus smiled at the road. “I will, sir, if the opportunity arises. Thank you for telling me that, sir.”

He was a good kid. K was never going to tell him that - but he was.

They were approaching the back-door security gate. K folded himself under the dashboard, curling up. “Sir?” Arus asked. “Should I be worried?”

“You’re alone, Arus,” K said. “It’s just you.”

“Yes, sir,” Arus said. He was slowing, pulling up to the security guard station.

A voice spoke faintly from outside the vehicle, and Arus smoothly produced an ID from somewhere on his person. After a moment, something beeped and Arus said, “Thank you,” and the truck began to move forward.

The recruit breathed out a sigh of relief. “That went well.”

“There’s more where it came from,” K said, sitting low in the seat. “Loading bay number four.”

The truck trundled around the compound before pulling into an open dock, the engine reverberating off of the concrete walls before Arus shut it off. “We’re here, sir.”

“Good,” K said, checking his watch and putting on a pair of gloves. It was 1:44. “You’re running exactly one minute ahead of time, Arus. Congratulations.” He peeked over the dashboard. There was a door at the far left of the loading dock, a key swipe sensor blinking red next to it. “Go ring that doorbell. When somebody answers, tell them you have a food delivery. When they open the door, knock them out, and keep the door open. You’re going to have to knock them out while the two of you are sort of within the door’s swinging radius.” He pointed at the security camera above them on the driver’s side door. “Watch out for that.” 

He rummaged through his backpack, handing Arus the bottle of chloroform and then the rag. “Soak the rag in the chloroform. Once the guard is out, place it over their mouth and nose.” 

Arus tipped the bottle over the rag, over and over, until the truck stank of ether and disinfectant. “Is that good, sir?”

K was holding his nose. “Yes.”

Arus hopped out of the truck with the rag tucked safely inside his hand, and rang a buzzer. K couldn’t hear or see what was going on, but he waited and listened as the door swung open, the guard’s voice said, “ID, please,” and then a thud.

“Clear,” Arus hissed.

K grabbed the keys from the ignition and hopped out, heading to the back of the truck. He unlocked the door and pulled it up, grabbing a box and using it to cover his face as he made his way over to the door. Arus was gently placing the chloroform over the guard’s face and using his body to prop open the door. “I feel kind of bad,” he whispered, pointing at the guard. “He was only trying to do his job.”

“Kid,” K said, “if you’re in this life, you’re going to have to do a lot worse than that.” He grabbed the guard’s key card off him and stepped inside the doorway. “Meet you back in the parking lot in less that half an hour.”

“Copy,” Arus said, and K put the box down inside.

The shifts changed at 2. His plan was simple: he was going to take the place of one of the guards.

One of the most insane aspects of the QMCP was their tracking. Every prisoner and every prison guard had a GPS tracking device embedded in their hip that showed their exact location at any given moment. At the moment, this guard, H. Gyrgan, really was technically at his station. The man who was delivering food was using his key card to enter the building and deposit the food. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but K knew that if he went too far with Gyrgan’s key card, someone would get an alert. 

He carried the box down a stretch of hallway and swiped his card to get into a door labeled KITCHEN. It smelled like shit in the kitchen, and K plunked the box down behind a counter, setting the card down on top of it. This was as far as H. Gyrgan would go.

He pressed his ear to a door on the opposite side of the kitchen, where the map said the hallway that led to the guardroom would be. He could, very faintly, hear the murmur of the 2 AM shift.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and K waited until they faded before he opened the door.

There was a men’s bathroom and a woman’s bathroom on opposite sides of a door labeled GUARDROOM. K opened the door to the men’s and turned left, around the wall that protected a view of the urinals from the door, and hid inside the first stall of five. He mapped the bathroom in his head. Five stalls across from six urinals, two sinks at the far end, against the wall that stood in front of the door.

He curled his hands into fists, waiting.

The door opened. One pair of footsteps. Perfect.

K waited until the guard rounded the corner, heard him go into a stall. He flushed the toilet, exited his own stall and moved to the sinks.

The guy flushed and K heard him about to open the latch on his door. 

He bolted to the stall. The guard barely had time to register that K was there before K was ducking to the side, grabbing the back of his head and his jaw and  _ twisting _ , up and over, and there was a  _ crunch _ and the guy went limp, dropping the guard helmet under his arm.

K’s heart jackrabbited. 

He piled the guy on top of the toilet, put the helmet on the ground, and pulled his uniform up and off, buttoning the jacket over his sweatshirt and pulling the pants over his own. The guy’s uniform was large on him; K wasn’t a big dude, but this guard was, so he tied his backpack around his waist, giving him the vague appearance of a belly, if you didn’t look too closely.

K ran his hand under the guard’s dress shirt, feeling for the lump under the skin of his left hip where the tracker was. His fingers found a bumpy scar - yes, that was it. Pulling out his steel knife, he cut into the flesh, blood flowing out sluggishly and dripping onto the floor. When he’d made a hole big enough, he stretched the hole with his fingers and removed the tiny metal tracker from the body, wiping it off on the roll of toilet paper before pocketing it. He ripped off a wad of toilet paper and put it onto the floor to mop up the blood. The bathroom door opened again. Shit. 

Two guards, this time. K checked his watch. 1:52. He took the dead guard’s phone and pressed the man’s thumb to the fingerprint sensor to open it, finding the night’s guard schedule on his email. He checked the name tag.  _ BRANKO _ .

_ Northwest 3, front _ .  _ Branko _ . K’s goal was the northwest 2 wing. Branko was stationed close. It meant K would have an easier time getting to his goal. 

The other two guards walked out and K pocketed Branko’s phone and card, taking the guard’s helmet. He awkwardly removed the silencer from his backpack and screwed it onto the barrel of his gun, tucking it back in his oversized pants. Carefully, he locked the stall door and crawled out underneath it, shoving the helmet over his head.

He paused for a moment and looked through the dark lense at himself in the mirror. 

He turned right out of the bathroom. It was 1:55, and all of the guards were slowly moving to their stations. Branko’s usual path led him up a flight of stairs to tap his ID at the top in order to get through the doors, and then down a long hallway, passing wing Northwest 1, Northwest 2, and finally 3, at the end of the hallway.

The guard standing there let out a breath of relief when he saw K. “Branko. Thanks, man.”

“Have a good night,” K said. 

“You too!” the guard called as he slumped away, pulling his helmet off and tucking it under his arm. 

K watched as the person across the hall at Southwest 3 tapped their card on a sensor near the door and entered something. He did the same, slowly glancing at their actions.

_ LT BRANKO TIME CLOCKED: _

K pressed 1:59 in with his gloved pointer finger, and then ENTER. A clock appeared on the screen, with a timer in the corner of six hours.

He settled in and waited for the movement around him to settle down. Four guards entered the doors behind him and a minute later, four came out, all shaking their heads out of their helmets and rubbing their eyes. One of them gave K an awkward smile. “Doesn’t get any easier to stay awake, huh, man.”

K shook his head. “Sure doesn’t. Have a good night.”

“See you.”

The helmet muffled his voice slightly, but he was glad when they were gone. He was sure that his voice sounded nothing like the big guy he was pretending to be.

2:05. 2:10. The guard across the hallway was on their phone. K casually removed his gun from his pants and held it loosely in his hand. He took note of the security cameras everywhere. Once he started, he didn’t have much time.

2:15. The guard across the hallway was enthralled in whatever they were looking at. K tapped his ID on the access sensor, and the doors behind him hissed open. They didn’t even look up. 

He entered the Northwest 2 wing, letting the doors hiss closed behind him. There was another pair of doors in the middle of the hallway, separating the lower security prisoners from the maximum security prisoners in the back of the hallway. Two guards stood in front of them, and those two weren’t on their phones. They looked up as K marched down the hallway towards them, lifting his gun, flicking the safety off with a final-sounding  _ click _ . “Branko?” one asked innocently, his hands stretching out. “What’s-”

K shot and missed, and shot and hit him in the jugular. A fountain of blood sprayed all over the other guard, who shouted something and raised their hand to hit an alarm button - and K shot, shot, shot, and her hand went, and then a bullet hit the wall, and then a red stain began to spread from her chest. She toppled, and then the doors in front of K slid open, and two guards pushed through, batons raised. K untied his backpack and cast it aside. He dropped the gun. 

The first guard swung his baton down in an arc, and K raised his hand, the tip of the baton smacking firmly into the leather. It stilled the swing in the middle, and he  _ pulled _ . The guard tripped forward and K brought his knee up and clipped his helmet up, his head jerking back. The second came at K from the side, but he was too close for his own safety; K grabbed his wrist and flipped over him, kicking him in the back as he came down and sending him crashing into the opposite wall. The guard looked up at him, and brought his hand down on the alarm button. 

DAMMIT.

K grabbed the steel knife from his belt and let them come to him. The first he caught in the gut and pulled up, ripping through his liver and stomach and stopping when he got it stuck in his ribcage. Blood and acid gushed out, pouring all over him, and the second guard charged. K yanked his knife out, dodging the second guard’s kick, and stabbed it upwards, straight into the hollow underneath his jaw.

The alarms were blaring, prisoners were rushing to their doors, and K grabbed his backpack from where he’d thrown it and rushed through the doors to the maximum security hallway of Northwest 2. At the very middle of the hallway, in cell 387, he found who he was looking for.

He didn’t have much time. He tapped his card to the sensor outside the door and removed the lockpicking jelly from his backpack, pushing it into the keyhole.

The keyhole started smoking and then the door swung open. One eye glared at him from the dark, only slightly illuminated by the light from the hallway.

K yanked the helmet off his head and dropped it. He pulled his luxite knife from his belt and held it out. “Cut the tracker out of your hip, Admiral.”

Sendak took the knife from K and watched him warily. Then he slowly lifted his shirt and dug the knife under his skin, pushing out the tiny silver tracker.

“Let’s go,” K said.

“And I’m supposed to trust you?” Sendak growled, his voice almost comical.

“My name is Agent K,” K said quietly. “The GIO needs your… skills. We’re breaking you out.”

“And they sent Keith Kogane?” Sendak laughed. He tossed K his knife. “Fine, Kogane, I’ll come with you. This will be  _ fun _ .”

K smiled and heard the doors down at the front of Northwest 2 slide open. He dug in the backpack for his throwing knives, removed them, and then threw his backpack at Sendak. “There’s putty in there. Spread it on the window at the far end of this hallway, and then smash it. I’ll be right there.”

K exited the cell and tossed a knife up in his hand. Sure, his aim with a gun might be notoriously shitty, but no one handled throwing knives like Agent K. He watched the doors begin to hiss open. A hand appeared, and then a guard helmet. He threw, and the visor of the helmet smashed. Then the screaming.

There was a smash at the end of the hallway, and Sendak was standing there, looking impressed. K backed up, threw another knife, and this one was strong enough to break through a collarbone. “Rope!” he shouted to Sendak. “Throw the - rope down!”

The window had a thick bar in the middle, but the hole caused by the acid putty in the three-inch bulletproof glass was big enough for a full-grown man to fit through. Sendak tied the rope around the bar and jumped down. K kept backing up, and through the open doors he saw another group of guards coming.

One more knife. 

He grabbed the rope and jumped out of the window, his gloves protecting his hands from rope burn as he slid. Sendak was waiting at the bottom. 

One of the guards was already trying to climb out of the window, holding carefully onto the rope. “Let’s go, Kogane,” Sendak growled.

K closed an eye and took careful aim. The wind blew gently from the east. The guard was almost through the window. The siren blared, and the alarm flashed red like a strobe light.

“Kogane!”

K threw, and the rope snapped, and the guard fell. “Let’s go,” he said, and booked it, Sendak’s thundering footsteps hot on his heels.

The police van was sitting in the parking lot, and K pointed to it. “That’s our ticket out,” he said as he heard a series of ear-splitting gunshots from the prison. They started overlapping each other, and the police van started up. K’s eyes widened. What was Arus  _ thinking _ ?”

Then a pain, in his left thigh. He saw white with pain, and his leg buckled under him. Sendak kept running towards the car, and K felt the blood start to soak his pants as he stumbled. He got up and kept going, limping desperately, one hand pressed to his wound as the van screeched to a halt in front of Sendak, who ripped open a door and shouted something at Arus, in the driver’s seat. 

“Keep going,” K shouted, waving his hand at the exit, even though his breath was leaving him. God, this was going to be it. This was going to be the hill he died on. A bullet smacked into the ground a centimeter from his foot, and he tripped over his leg, the corners of his vision fading. The GIO didn’t return for their own. The prison guards were going to shoot him in this parking lot in Virginia, and he was going to fail the most important mission of his life because he couldn’t run fast enough. 

But then the police van was in front of him, and a strong hand was lifting him into the van and unceremoniously dumping him onto the floor of the backseat. “DRIVE, YOU IDIOT, FUCKING DRIVE,” Sendak bellowed, and Arus took off, Sendak closing the door behind K. 

K struggled to sit up behind the driver’s side, and grabbed an AK-47 with luxite bullets from where it rested. “Aru---s,” he gasped, “the guard- he’s out-?”

“Yessir,” Arus said, his eyes fixed on the road. “The gate is closed, sir!” 

“I know,” K snarled, and pushed the window button with his elbow. He rested the barrel of the gun on the windowsill, and cocked the gun, aiming it at the station.

He squeezed the trigger, and the AK-47 pumped bullets into the control panel inside the security station, and he must have hit something, because the gate shuddered to life, slowly folding open, and Arus shot through them, out into the main entrance of the penitentiary, and then out onto the streets of Quantico, Virginia.

“Agent K, sir, we’re going to have to switch vehicles soon!” Arus said, shouting over the wind. K slowly rolled up the window, ripping his guard shirt off and tying it tightly around his wound. “Are you good to transfer, sir?”

“Yes,” K said. “Admiral?”

Arus glanced in the mirror, his purple eyes fixing on Admiral Sendak.

“Yes,” Sendak snapped, glaring at him.

“We’re going to the docks at the Potomac,” Arus said. “We’ll jack a car there, you two will transfer, and then I’ll drive this one into the river. If that’s alright with you, sirs?” 

K nodded, smiling weakly. “Good… plan, Arus.”

They shot down the road and collected the guns from the back, Sendak holding them across his lap, and K pressing on his wound with everything he had. Arus tossed back a small bottle and K caught it; it was filled with aspirin. He took three.

They slowed to a crawl at the empty docks, police sirens wailing in the distance. “That one,” Arus said, pointing at an SUV. “Sirs, can either of you steal a car?”

“Yes,” K said.

Arus hit the brakes next to the SUV. “Get all of your stuff, sirs. Admiral, I can’t order you, but I’m gonna ask you really nicely to please help Agent K break into that SUV.” He tossed a duffle bag into the back, which Sendak picked up. “All the stuff you need’s in there. I’m going to drive this into the river. I’ll be right back.”

K stumbled out of the car, falling on the pavement as Arus booked it away. “I thought he was wet behind the ears when he insisted we pick you up,” Sendak said, “but he just wants you to be his daddy.”

K leaned against the side of the SUV and dug through the duffel bag until he found the long, thin piece of metal. “He’s naive. But smart.” He stuck it into the thin space between the window and door, and started rocking back and forth. 

“You’re still as hopeful and optimistic as you were when we met,” Sendak laughed. K pulled and popped and the door opened. “When I heard you were working for the GIO, I thought it was a joke.” 

On a silent count of three, K jumped into the driver’s seat, his thigh screaming and his vision wiping out for a moment. Sendak stood by the passenger’s seat. “I never thought you’d betray that sniper you were fucking. The Blue Paladin, right?”

“I found my priorities,” K said simply, twisting a screwdriver in the ignition. “And they were more important than a skinny twink.”

He was lying, of course. Lance was a twunk.

Sendak laughed. “Siding with the victors. Smart, Kogane.” 

The SUV rumbled to live, and Arus appeared at the door, dripping wet. “Are you alright, sir?”

K nodded and carefully clambered out of the van, getting in the backseat next to Sendak. “Find a motel, Arus. The flight to Galratia is later today at 1300 from a private airfield at Ronald Reagan International.” The car smoothly started up and pulled away. “We’ve got a long flight tomorrow.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this chapter is alternatively titled: THE FUTURE? BARELY KNOW HER!
> 
> [main](http://gravitvs.tumblr.com) [fandom/voltron](http://paladumb.tumblr.com)


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